


who are you?

by cumpeachx



Series: do i know you? [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, There will be fluff, also recreational drug use, alternating pov, roommate au, there will be angst, there will be smut, underage drinking (timmy is 20)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumpeachx/pseuds/cumpeachx
Summary: Timmy finds himself in a frustrating predicament -- pining after his roommate.SEQUEL to ‘do I know you?’





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> hello! welcome to PART TWO of 'do i know you?'  
> (read that first if you haven't yet, obviously.)
> 
> just a few points -  
> this is still completely and totally dedicated to speakfree/imstillwithyou because she is the muse and inspiration behind this entire story and none of this would have been possible without her. she is also insanely talented so give her a follow on tumblr if you haven't because she'll blow your mind with her graphics and edits.
> 
> i haven't decided on a chapter count yet so that'll be updated eventually.  
> i'll do my best to stick to a weekly updating schedule! :D  
> happy to be back! i missed the boys and all of you.  
> ps - fiction and stuff.

“Timmy?” Armie’s voice cut through the intense rain, causing Timmy turn around so suddenly that his soppy curls whipped over his face, clinging to his eyelashes and cheek. He brushed them aside in a hurry, a few strands sticking to his chin. He still wasn’t used to Armie’s voice nor the feelings that churned inside of his belly when he saw him.

“What are you doing?” Armie asked as he held a red flannel over his head to block the rain and looked him over slowly. Timmy had been struggling to pump air into his bike tire for fifteen minutes but his pump seemed to be broken because nothing was happening. He’d made it about half a block from the apartment before he had lost control and tipped over and now he was left frustrated, cold, and soggy. On top of all that he was half an hour late to the radio station. Armie seemed to figure out his predicament before Timmy could answer.

“Can I give you a ride?” he asked, but his tone made it clear that it wasn’t really a question. Timmy was shivering and still recovering from the flu he’d had two weeks ago. He stood up from where he was hunched on the sidewalk and nodded. 

“If you’re sure. I can just call an Uber…”

Armie laughed, rolling his eyes. He released his flannel so it fell down against his shoulders, soaked through, and one armed Timmy’s bike before leading the way towards his car.

“My truck is around the corner. Parking fucking sucks tonight.” 

They both jogged to Armie’s blue truck, which he had to manually unlock because that’s how old it was, and the worn out leather made a squelching sound as Timmy slid inside. He ran cold fingers through his dripping hair, looking over his shoulder as the windows fogged and watched as Armie set his bike in the bed of the truck. He smiled awkwardly once Armie joined him.

“Thanks,” he sighed, pulling off his backpack and setting in on the floor between his knees. Armie brushed his thanks off with a kind smile and got the car started, making sure to get the heater pumping hot, stuffy air as quickly as possible. It didn’t do much for how soaked they both were but at least it felt nice against the stinging cold of their skin. Timmy’s teeth chattered gently.

“You don’t want to go inside to change first?” Armie’s concern gave Timmy additional goosebumps. He smiled a gentle decline.

“No, I’m already late. There’s a decent space heater in the station. I’ll be okay.” Timmy’s leg bounced in anticipation. Armie looked like he wanted to insist but instead just asked if he was sure and Timmy assured him it was fine. Missing his radio block would be devastating, especially with how messy his life had become. He could deal with the cold, wet clothes tonight. 

They had officially met two weeks ago and since then it had been a spiral of never-ending encounters. Whatever strange phenomenon had kept them apart was now clearly making a joke out of their situation. Now Timmy’s life was a steady mix of shared breakfasts, catching each other on the way in and out of the apartment, which had led to Armie giving him a ride to class a few times. The worst of it was how they suddenly always wanted a shower at the same time and Armie was one of those guys who only wrapped a towel around their waist and to go so long with having no idea what he looked like only to be drowned in warm skin, sharp hips, and what he imagined to be the softest chest hair, was painful, to say the least.

To make his obvious infatuation worse, Timmy had postponed his date with Nick twice now. Once because of the flu and another because he was nervous. He felt guilty and terrible, but he had finally agreed to meet up this weekend because despite spending so much more time with Armie, he was sure that the older male wanted nothing to do with him, or so he’d convinced himself.

Yeah, he needed his radio block because the playlist of emotions that had been building up inside of him over the last two weeks was bountiful.

“If you say so. Take this for now -” Armie leaned over towards Timmy, causing his breath to hitch in his chest. He swallowed and closed his eyes while Armie searched out something from the floor of the backseat. “It’s my favorite sweater, so I expect it back.” Timmy couldn’t tell if Armie was joking or not because he was grinning wildly. He handed over a soft, definitely way too big, heather gray sweater. Timmy was already trying to figure out ways to keep it. He folded it carefully then shoved it into his backpack, making Armie laugh and Timmy blush.

-

After they had parked in the empty lot outside the building his college radio station was located, they sat in what should have been an awkward silence but Timmy felt it was more forlorn than uncomfortable. He didn’t want to get leave the truck and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was still pouring rain outside, or that he was still trembling from the cold. Maybe he was just getting his own hopes up, but as Armie shifted in his seat and gave him a soft, tight lipped smile, it was easy to imagine that he didn’t want to say goodbye either. 

Timmy chewed his lip nervously, thinking about how he was already an hour late and that the station was most likely running through a loop of terrible current radio hits. He scratched his eyebrow and his head lolled to the side against the headrest. 

“So um,” Timmy started, his heart fluttering nervously in his rib cage. He sat forward to unzip his backpack, shuffling a few things around until he sat back with a joint between his fingers. “I don’t know if you…” Timmy smiled sheepishly, crooked lines against the corner of his mouth. He wiggled the joint that was pinched between his index and thumb. “I usually do before my block. Consider it a ‘thank you’?” 

Armie’s chuckle and assent warmed him from head to toe, far more efficient than any heater could.

-

Timmy tried not to think about the fact that Armie’s lips were now gently hugging the end of the joint that he had held against his own mouth only moments ago and how it was most likely damp from the tip of his tongue and because he had an incessant habit of licking his lips. He wondered if Armie could taste the mint of his mouthwash or maybe the sweetness of the cherry lip balm he’d put on earlier.

“So you always get high before your block, huh?” Armie asked as he sucked in a hit, making a fist over his mouth as he held it in his lungs. He released the smoke as he passed the joint back over. Timmy knew he was failing miserably at acting like he wasn't staring but figured he could just blame it on being stoned if necessary. Armie dragged a finger over his bottom lip, which was chased by his tongue, and Timmy was certain he heard a hum of interest when Armie smacked his lips together. 

“Yeah,” Timmy laughed, lifting his shoulders up and down in an exaggerated shrug. “It makes the music sound even better.” He took another hit, a gentle cough choking from his chest when he exhaled. Armie laughed deeply and Timmy looked over at him with a smile, unsure of what was so funny but unable to stop his chest from heaving with his own amusement.

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing.”

“What?” Timmy asked again, his cheeks burning from the anticipated embarrassment and the fact that Armie’s smile set his whole body on fire. He reached over and nudged Armie with his elbow, making the older male laugh even more deeply.

“I’m just imagining The Shins on repeat because you’re too high to listen to anything else.”

Timmy scoffed. “Excuse me, I play other music too. It’s not _just the Shins._ ”

They both laughed, Timmy buckling forward to hold an arm over his stomach. Armie held his hands in the air, half shrugging, half in defense. 

“The thin walls of our apartment beg to differ.”

Timmy huffed, his green eyes suddenly flashing with challenge. “Oh, so you think you could do better, Hammer?” 

Armie looked at him curiously, his smile faltering ever so slightly. Timmy felt his heart palpitate and he momentarily lost his breath. Blue eyes challenged his own and Timmy squirmed in his seat.

“Do you want to come inside and hang for a bit? I might even let you pick a few songs.” Timmy felt like the entire world was buzzing with anticipation, his anxiety at an all time high while he waited for Armie’s response. The silence felt too powerful and Timmy started to fold in on himself. 

“Sorry, it’s late. You’re probably tired and you’ve already gone out of your way and, yeah, shit. I’m sorry —” Timmy started to stutter a million reasons why Armie would turn him down, hoping to beat him to the punch, but when his green eyes looked up bashfully through his lashes, Armie was grinning. 

“Hope you’re ready to lose your radio block to me, Chalamet.” 

-

Timmy frantically tried to clean himself up in the bathroom. He used the parts of his shirt that had managed to stay dry under his soaked hoodie to ruffle his curls, making them less drippy and instead turned them into a damp frizzy mess. He tossed his shirt and hoodie over the edge of the sink in a feeble attempt to let them hang out to dry. He looked at himself shirtless in the mirror for a moment, his mind taking him out of the bathroom, to Armie who was waiting for him in the next room over. Armie who was shirtless every time he walked out of the bathroom from a shower. Armie who said the soft cotton folded in his hands was his _favorite_ sweater.

He pulled the sweater swiftly over his head; the loose hanging fabric was stretched from frequent use. Armie's favorite sweater, he smiled to himself at the repeated thought. Timmy felt his stomach flip when the warm scent of Armie's shampoo attacked his senses, the soft cotton against his cold skin giving him too many sensations for his stoned brain to comprehend. He looked at himself in the mirror again, holding up his arms to see that the sleeves covered his hands entirely. He grinned, pushing the fabric up to his elbow, only to watch it slide down as he tried to lift the neckline higher but it was all futile. His pale skin, which was slightly pink from the cold, was clearly visible under the loose fitting garment, collarbone and shoulder on display.

Timmy surrendered to his appearance, thinking that this was as good as it was going to get. He felt defeated and nervous in his own skin as he walked back into the other room to join Armie, but when the blue eyes that met him seemed to glare with approval, suddenly every part of him felt alive.

-

“Come on, just tell me. I promise I won’t laugh.” Armie obviously didn’t believe him because they were both already smiling - Armie with amused disbelief and Timmy with good intentioned self-doubt.

“Okay fine,” Armie sighed. He scrunched his nose up in a way Timmy had never seen before, which made his mouth fall open unintentionally, pure awe. “Mariah Carey. Like, 1993, _Music Box_ era Mariah.” Armie’s cheeks flushed instantly and Timmy realized that he was _embarrassed._ How on earth could someone look that good while turning such a bright shade of pink? 

Their eyes locked on one another but Timmy was stunned into silence and Armie stared back like he regretted everything. The air between them shifted and Timmy blinked. In an instant, his entire face lit up but he kept quiet as he suddenly busied himself on the laptop at his side. Armie tried to crane his neck to look over but Timmy swatted him away. A few seconds went by and when Timmy turned around, all proud and chin held high, Armie looked even more remorseful. 

“What did you do?” 

Timmy shrugged nonchalantly. “As far as first crushes go, Mariah Carey isn’t so bad. Plus…” there was a short silence while the current song ended and the next track started up. Armie’s face flashed with recognition. Immediately he was blushing and laughing and Timmy looked even more proud that he’d managed to elicit such rare reactions from Armie. 

“Dreamlover is my fucking jam,” Timmy chuckled as the song continued. He started to roll his body to the melody, blushing and smiling as he tried to look cool but he could feel Armie’s eyes on him, taking in his every movement. He started to lip sync the words, with exaggerated eyebrows lifted high as he pretended to hit the high notes. It went on for a good minute before he finally gave in, laughing at himself, his own embarrassment. 

Armie looked a mix of impressed and something else that Timmy couldn’t place. He scratched the back of his curls nervously but then Armie clapped his hands together in applause, making him laugh even more. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Timmy bowed his chin in gratitude.

“It’s like I have no idea who you are anymore,” Armie grinned. “Any other hidden talents I should know about? Or is it just lip syncing 90’s pop hits?” The same hint of a challenge he’d given earlier now glazed over Armie’s eyes and Timmy met it eagerly with his own.

“You have no idea,” he winked before turning in his chair and getting to work on a playlist that he knew he’d regret in the morning, but with Armie by his side, helping him pick out each song that would eventually lead to them dancing, singing, and regretfully, Timmy rapping, until 6am, it was hard to care about the repercussions.


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so, um.  
> ...enjoy? :wince:
> 
> (FICTION!)

Timmy chewed carefully at the skin around his thumbnail. He could hear his mother’s voice scolding him lovingly, even his sister’s hand gently slapping his so that he’d stop. _It’s a terrible habit and you have lovely hands,_ they’d both say. He sighed, holding his arm out to examine the details. There was a scar against his ring finger, near the end, and a freckle that sat a centimeter above it. His nails needed a trim and although his fingers were slender and his skin soft, he didn’t find them particularly attractive but the other night at the radio station, a night that he hadn’t stop thinking about for four nights now, Armie had commented on his hands. He’d said they were _statuesque_ and Timmy had no idea if it was a compliment but the way that Armie had looked at him when he said it made his mind run wild with possibilities. 

Timmy smiled to himself, his stomach twisting into happy little knots as it seemed to always do now when he thought of Armie. He swiveled around on a battered stool, where he was seated behind the register at the record store he worked at. He had the morning shift because his date with Nick was that night and Saoirse had been nice about letting him trade shifts with another employee.

“What are you smiling about, Chalamet?” Saoirse asked as she walked through the doors, coming back inside from her mid-morning smoke break. “Still thinking about Mariah Carey Night?”

Timmy grumbled. He knew he never should have told her about Armie, about his feelings, about literally every single detail of what happened between them at the radio station. He attempted to tighten his brows, to look surly and unaffected but he snorted with laughter instead and blushed.

“Please, stop calling it ‘Mariah Carey Night,’” he begged with a chuckle. Saoirse walked over to the front counter and leaned towards him while balancing on her elbows. She shrugged.

“So what are you going to do, Timo?” She asked him seriously, the amusement in her voice hidden beneath her concerned tone. He didn’t have to ask her to clarify what she meant, but she did regardless, because she cared, because she worried about him, because she was a good friend.

“You’re really going to go out with this guy’s _best friend_? It’s obvious he’s into you, and you’re into him, so I really don’t understand why you’d sabotage yourself like this.”

“It’s not like that,” Timmy looked down at his hands in his lap. “I’m just playing it up in my head. He’s not into me. I’m not his type.” He pushed his mouth to the side as he quickly thought of all the different people that Armie had brought home, how gorgeous they all were, how put together, clean, beautiful. He thought of Liz and her bright, friendly smile and her lustrous hair, perfectly manicured nails. Timmy flicked a bit of ink out from under his thumbnail where it had collected when he’d been pricing vinyl earlier in the morning. There were sharpie marks all over both of his hands. He picked at the tattered hem of his long sleeve shirt, where he’d poked a hole through the seam so that his thumb could fit through. 

“What’s his type?”

Timmy just laughed bitterly, holding his shoulders up high and then releasing them with an exasperated breath. “Not me.”

Saoirse seemed to take him in for a moment and Timmy knew she was probably debating whether or not to give him a speech, though about what, he couldn’t guess. He looked at her idly, still swiveling to and fro until she sighed and decided against whatever pep talk she might have considered.

“I’ve got another crate of albums in the back that need pricing. I’ll bring them up so that you have something to do instead of sitting there looking pretty,” she winked and started to walk away backwards. She held up her hands like finger guns, “Think your _statuesque_ hands can handle that?”

-

Timmy decidedly used his own shampoo to wash his hair. Part of it was because he worried Nick would notice that he smelled like Armie but mostly it was that something felt inherently wrong about smelling like the guy you had a hopeless crush on whilst on a date with said crush’s _best friend._ The familiar guilt roiled in his belly as he combed his fingers through his hair, brushing his part to the side in hopes that it was clear he was making an effort. No matter what he felt about Armie, Timmy still felt that Nick deserved his effort.

It wasn’t that he _disliked_ Nick. In fact, there had been an entire ten seconds when they first met that Timmy was certain that he _liked him very much._ It just turned out that Nick _wasn’t Armie_ and apparently that made all the difference where his feelings were concerned. However, once he had eventually texted Nick and after the first awkward cancellation of their date, they had started to text regularly. Soon enough Timmy found himself smiling at his phone whenever Nick would say something sweet or funny, and he had felt his stomach flutter a little when Nick had paid for UberEats to deliver tomato soup and a grilled cheese to the apartment the day he was sick at home with Armie -- he didn’t tell Nick that he shared the food with Armie, while sharing a blanket, his feet tucked under Armie’s thigh, and probably never would.

Timmy’s hands made their way up the buttons of his white collared shirt and he felt a mixture of excitement and nerves, guilt and giddiness. Nick was a nice guy, and he was cute, and he was _into him._ What more could he ask for? He _deserved_ a nice evening out with a cute guy, as Pauline had practically scolded him into agreement when he called her to ask advice about cancelling a date for the third time.

It took a while of fussing with his hair until he was satisfied but eventually his curls agreed to do what he wanted. He started to tear apart his room to look for his “nice” pair of black boots, the ones that had a bit of shine left to them, as opposed to his doc martens that had seen better days. He was ass up and half way under his bed when he realized he had left them by the front door. He stood up with a grunt, wringing his hands together as he nervously contemplated what to do - Armie was probably going to be home from work any minute and the idea had been to sneak out of the apartment to meet Nick outfront before Armie got home, or at least once Armie was hidden away in his room. But if he went out there now to get his boots, he was running the risk of an encounter with Armie that he, for the first time since moving in, didn’t want.

“Fuck it,” Timmy muttered as he shuffled out in a hurry, his socks scuffling against the wooden floor. He almost slipped when he heard a voice from the kitchen and the sound of the refrigerator opening.

“Oh hey, Timmy! I was just about to come ask you if you wanted to share a pizza or-” Armie stood up from where he was hunched over in their fridge, his face wavering once he turned around with a beer in hand and looked over Timmy. Realization took over his features and Timmy felt the burn of embarrassment under his skin. Armie looked disappointed and Timmy would have given anything in the world to go back in time, to stay in his room, to turn down the date, to have never moved in, _anything_ to have prevented him from witnessing that look on Armie’s face.

“I wish. I mean, I _would_ ,” Timmy fumbled over his words, avoiding saying what was obvious because he felt that saying it outloud would somehow be awkward, painful. “I mean, it’s just that…”

“Your date with Nick,” Armie interrupted, smiling. Timmy nodded. There was a short silence while Armie unhooked his keys from his belt loop which had a bottle opener attached and he opened the beer in his hand with a hiss as the carbonation was released. “Shit, sorry. I knew that. Nick hasn’t shut the fuck up about it all week, ha.”

“Oh?” Timmy chuckled nervously. He shuffled to the side and bent down to grab his boots from the floor. He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock on the front door and he cursed under his breath while Armie’s belly warming laugh echoed in the kitchen. He didn’t have to look through the peep hole to know that it was Nick. Fuck.

-

“Wow, you look great, Timmy,” Nick let out his compliment all in one breath. It took every ounce of willpower in Timmy’s body not to turn around, to sneak a glance at Armie. The skin on the back of his neck felt like it was burning from what he hoped was Armie’s eyes all over him, but Timmy wouldn’t allow himself the disappointment, or elation, of finding out. He tugged at the collar of his button up that was tucked neatly under his tan sweater with the lamb on it. 

“Thank you,” Timmy chewed at his lip, so nervous he felt dizzy. He had never been on a proper date before, especially the kind where the guy knocks on your front door, kisses your cheek, then hands over a single sunflower. No one had ever given him flowers before. He rolled the stem awkwardly between his fingers, the flower twirling against his sweater. 

“You look nice,” he offered in return, his face so red from the rush of blood. Why did all of this have to happen with Armie literally ten feet away? He wanted to crawl into his sweater and hide, never come out. Armie cleared his throat in the kitchen and Nick’s face lit up.

“Hey man!” Nick waved over. Timmy couldn’t turn around, instead he busied himself with his boots, lacing them quickly, messily, desperately, sunflower stem between his lips.

“What’s up?” Armie asked conversationally, his voice still far away but now coming from a different direction. Maybe he had moved towards the hallway. Timmy risked a glance upwards at Nick and he caught a friendly wink towards Armie, the sort of knowing glance that was exchanged between friends. Non-verbal communication. Timmy knew it must have been about him, and he was both disappointed and flattered by how happy Nick looked.

“Well, you two have fun. Don’t be too loud when you get home,” Armie clicked his tongue. Timmy’s head snapped in his direction and their eyes locked. Timmy knew he must have looked offended, even angry, but Armie just looked indifferent as he turn away and disappeared into his room.

“ _Dude,_ ” Nick called back with a laugh, shaking his head. He sighed and gave Timmy an apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s an asshole.”

“Yeah,” Timmy fluttered too quickly, laughing uneasily. “I mean, no, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.” Nick gave him a grateful smile then offered his arm, asked him if he was ready to go, to which Timmy nodded and thought to himself _now or never._

-

Nick had asked Timmy if he wanted to catch a movie or dinner first and Timmy was worried that he had opted far too quickly for a movie, but if he was sending out any sort of negative vibes, Nick didn’t seem to notice. The goal had been to avoid the small talk that would be inevitable with dinner because Timmy was still nervous, but as they drove to the cinema, waited in line for tickets and concessions, then through the previews, and even the first ten minutes of the film, it turned out that Nick was a talkative person, nonstop even, regardless of the situation. Timmy wasn’t annoyed so much as overwhelmed and he couldn’t decide if it was cute or if he was just nervous.  
-

Timmy wasn’t sure if it was during the gorey murder scene or maybe right before the dramatic mislead of _who done it_ but Nick’s fingers were now laced between his own. He had been trying to shield his eyes from the horror and gore but softened at the touch of Nick’s hand against his, his thumb stroking over the top of his hand in an attempt to comfort him. Timmy had never been a fan of scary movies but he’d been far too shy to reveal that detail to Nick, who had been so enthusiastic about their choice of film but now seemed to be realizing he’d made a mistake when buying their tickets.

“Hey, you okay?” Nick asked, leaning in towards Timmy’s ear. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the rush of warm breath and he flushed slightly, nodding his head and turning his chin to the side, closer to where Nick was still hovering.

“I’m okay,” he smiled bashfully. Nick stared at him and Timmy could feel his dark eyes on his nose, his lips, his chin. Everywhere. He swallowed.

“Are you scared?” Nick asked softly, his voice a rough, gentle whisper between them. “We can go if you hate this. I’m sorry, I should have -” Nick’s voice was cut off by the press of Timmy’s lips against his mouth. 

Timmy’s heart was pounding hard against his chest. He had no idea what had come over him; maybe it was the regret in Nick’s voice, the apologetic tone, or maybe just the look of hunger and admiration in his eyes while he’d been looking him over so carefully. Timmy didn’t want to hear him apologize, nor did he want to flake out on the movie that Nick had chosen, because it was the thought that counted and because they were _finally_ on a date and he refused to ruin it.

Nick returned his kiss easily but the surprise that Timmy initiated was clear in his apprehension to deepen it. Nick drew back a small breath, pressing his mouth against Timmy’s for a few more seconds before pulling away.

“What was that for?”

Timmy shrugged, licking over his lips to test out the warmth of Nick’s taste against his taste buds. He didn’t _hate_ it. He smirked, shrugging a playful shoulder.

“For being worried about me,” he whispered, then shrugged again, “And a little cute.”

“Oh, only a little?” Nick teased. Timmy laughed and was shushed by someone a few rows over. He laughed harder but covered his mouth with his hands. 

“Just a little,” Timmy grinned.

-

They never made it to dinner. In fact, they had barely made it to the car before both of their hands were all over one another; Nick’s tangled in his hair, his shoved under Nick’s thin cotton shirt, gripping at his shoulder blades. They ended up leaving the movie early but only because their flirting had turned physical and eventually someone had thrown popcorn at them, told them to get a room, to which they jogged down the aisle holding hands and laughing obnoxiously. For a while it was easy to forget about Armie.

They had drove to Nick’s apartment. Timmy sat awkwardly in the center of Nick’s couch while he made them a drink in the kitchen, which neither of them touched before they were making out again. Timmy felt himself temporarily forgetting everything; Armie, their apartment, work, school, nothing mattered except the touch of Nick’s lips on his skin, the weight of his body as Nick climbed onto his lap, straddling him and keeping him grounded. Timmy felt his body ignite with desire, but no matter how heavy their petting was, how sensually Nick would grind his ass down against his lap, the desired effect was only met half-way.

Nick pulled back, his mouth lingering as Timmy’s bottom lip was meshed between his two. Their tongues still lightly seeking each other’s out for warmth and caress. The heat of Nick’s breath was enticing and thrilling, Timmy’s desire to feel wanted pulling lust directly from the bottom of his belly. Nick was looking at him as if he was the best thing he’d ever seen and Timmy felt his cheeks flush at the attention. He wanted it so badly; to feel wanted, to feel desired, to want Nick the same way but his chest was aching and his stomach felt tight with guilt. When their eyes finally locked, the very thought that Timmy had been suppressing all night came to the forefront of his mind and he frowned. Nick _wasn’t_ Armie.

“Nick,” Timmy wiped at his mouth nervously. “Do you think we could slow down a little? I like you and this, this is great, it’s just. It’s a little fast, I think?” Timmy turned his eyes down, afraid he’d give himself away. His thoughts were all over the place and he needed to figure out what it was he wanted. 

Nick slid off of Timmy right away, understanding clear in his eyes and the way he smiled. Timmy felt worse when Nick apologized, so he kissed him again, languid and soft, gratefully, so that Nick didn’t doubt that the desire to make out had been mutual. Nick offered to make dinner, or to order in, but Timmy admitted he was tired and ready to head home so after a quiet drive home, a few peppered kisses goodbye in Nick’s car and insisting he didn’t have to walk him up, Timmy was finally back in his apartment.

-

Timmy changed into Armie’s shirt and a pair of sweats, which he tucked into a pair of purple socks. With a sad smile he put Nick’s sunflower on his nightstand. He tried to sleep but Nick was texting him sweet things, wishing him goodnight, thanking him for the date and he didn’t have the energy to reply. He’d apologize in the morning and just say he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t bother to play any music and told himself it was because it’d keep him awake, but really it was because he was listening for signs of Armie.

Sleep never came. Part of it was that he couldn’t stop thinking. All the time tonight that he’d spent actively _not_ thinking of Armie, or how he felt about him, or how he really hated the way his own shampoo smelled, or how he could have been at home sharing a pizza with Armie instead of making out with his best friend… All thoughts were tenfold. Overcompensation thanks to avoidance. He had really fucked himself over. The other part of it his restlessness, embarrassingly, was because of the horror movie Nick had taken him to see. Normally he slept with his room dark, only the moon coming through his window to make everything glow, blue and hazy, but his eyes were fucking with him just as much as his head was and eventually he dragged himself out to the living room.

Armie had ordered a pizza after all and with a half-smile Timmy helped himself to a slice. It was pepperoni, but he peeled each one off carefully then left them in the corner of the box. He spent almost an hour watching _The Great British Bake Off_ , absently wondering if Armie was home but deep down he knew he wasn’t. The apartment was too quiet, felt too empty, and Timmy had become an expert at sensing when Armie was near. Or so he thought.

When his eyes burned from sleep, Timmy clicked off the TV and dragged himself down the hallway to his room. He stopped when heard voices from the other side of Armie’s door. His heart fluttered, surprised that Armie was home and wondering if he was awake, that maybe he was up watching a movie, or listening to music. Timmy didn’t allow himself to consider that maybe Armie was awake and possibly waiting for him - surely he’d have come out to the living room when Timmy had been laughing (and maybe crying a little) at the baking show. The voices were loud all at once and suddenly dread washed over Timmy, the blood leaving his face, and his body tingling with fear that _what if it wasn’t Armie?_ He irrationally thought of a scenario where a murderer had entered his apartment without him noticing and he had to pinch himself to rid the thought from his mind - _this_ was exactly why he hated scary movies.

He had been ready to run the rest of the way to his bedroom but the knob of Armie’s door was turning and two bodies came stumbling out, a blur of skin and limbs. It was dark in the hallway but it was obvious that Armie was wearing boxers, barely, hung so low on his hips that Timmy could see the start of his pubic hair. There was so much flesh between the two bodies, Armie’s golden skin and dark hair that blanketed each inch and then there was a woman, who was giggling and pressing herself against the side of Armie’s body. She gasped when she noticed Timmy, throwing an arm over her bare breasts to cover herself up.

Timmy’s eyes met Armie’s, both unreadable, both silent. Armie didn’t seem bothered, not even apologetic. The woman was still giggling, whispering something into Armie’s ear and Armie smirked gently, giving her a soft pat on her ass.

“It’s the second door on the left. I’ll be in there in a second,” he winked and she hurried down the hallway, past Timmy who was still standing there like a jackass. Neither of them had taken their eyes off one another.

“I had no idea you were home. I figured you’d stay at Nick’s or something,” Armie shrugged, but Timmy couldn’t tell if his voice was annoyed or indifferent. Timmy didn’t know what would be worse. Armie started to make his way down the hall and Timmy took a step back, turning to the side so his back was nearly pressed up against the wall. It was a small hallway and Armie was a lot of man, a lot of _almost naked_ man, and Timmy could barely stand the sight of him, let alone the thought of brushing up against him accidentally. 

“I was tired,” Timmy finally responded, his voice small and unrecognizable. He felt betrayed but knew he had no right to be. Armie wasn’t his, clearly. 

Armie just hummed, their bodies nearly side by side. Timmy looked down when Armie stopped walking right in front of him. The same, familiar burn he’d felt on the back of his neck earlier he now felt all over his entire body. Timmy resisted for as long as he could before looking up but regretted it immediately because his eyes were met with the sad, painfully blue, apologetic eyes of Armie’s. 

The rattle of the pipes filled the hall as the shower was turned on from the bathroom.

“You’ve got sauce on your face,” Armie smiled, his voice sad and quiet. Armie licked his thumb and then swiped away some of the leftover pizza sauce that had crusted against the corner of his mouth. Timmy was speechless, his heart beating spastically against his ribs, his cock stirring under his sweats from the thought of Armie’s saliva on his skin, his thumb by his mouth. His mouth hung open even after Armie pulled away. Timmy watched Armie’s eyes take in his mouth, his nose, his eyes. 

“You’re so messy, Timmy,” Armie muttered as a farewell before leaving Timmy in the hallway, joining the half naked woman in the bathroom to do exactly what Timmy wished he could with Armie.


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> armie’s POV.  
> fiction, fiction, fiction, etc.  
> thank you so much to every single person who not only reads this story but comments, kudos, or maybe just silently vibrates with love from behind a computer screen. i am so grateful. 
> 
> happy spring (break) 💓

“Hey, man. We still on for tonight?” Nick asked from the doorway of Armie’s office. He dropped a bag of barley down at his feet and stretched his neck. They had been at work since early that morning to work on a new brew but it was nearing the end of the day, finally. Armie had almost forgotten he’d made plans to hang with Nick afterward. 

Work had been unusually busy recently so there hadn’t been much of a chance for them to catch up since Nick’s date with Timmy, which was two days ago. Armie was grateful for the distraction, but it was hard to admit - even to himself - that he’d been keeping his office door closed more often than usual. Everyone knew that a closed door meant to keep a safe distance. Nick included, but if his best friend was offended that he hadn’t been very responsive to his text messages, the smile on his face didn’t show it. Armie had accepted years ago that Nick was a far better person, and friend, than he was.

“Yeah, definitely. I think Liz wants to go see a movie though, if that’s cool,” Armie answered without looking up from his laptop. He sighed, feeling the start of a headache building at the base of his skull. “Some new slasher flick that came out last week.”

Armie could feel Nick’s face radiating all the way from his desk. He looked up with a quirked eyebrow and Nick made the face of someone that was dying to confess something worthwhile - something Armie knew he really, really didn’t want to hear.

“What?” he asked with a shaky smile, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. Nick blushed then shrugged.

“That’s the movie I took Timmy to see,” Nick chuckled, his eyes clearly remembering things from that night that Armie knew he would end up hearing about sooner or later, whether he wanted to or not. Armie smiled at first, glad to see his friend happy but then suddenly pulled back. 

“Wait, you took Timmy to see a horror movie? He hates horror movies.”

Nick laughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeaaaah, I realized that once he had basically curled into a ball half way through.” Armie had to force himself to laugh so as not to stare off in the distance and remember why he knew _exactly_ what that looked like. There was a reason he knew Timmy wasn’t a fan of horror.

_Armie had decided to stop by the apartment for a change of clothes. It was late, almost midnight, but he had plans meet up with a girl he’d met earlier at the brewery. He smelled like beer and sweat after working the bar longer than he intended and he knew exactly where this meetup was headed, so he figured the least he could do was shower._

_The entire apartment was nearly silent, nearly pitch dark except for the eerie glow of the television in the living room. Armie almost hadn’t noticed Timmy on the couch because he was wrapped up tightly in a fuzzy floral blanket, only his wide, horrified green eyes peeking through, his face illuminated by the flashing of the screen. Armie had no idea how anyone could be attractive in that lighting, but Timmy was effortlessly proving just how possible it was._

_“Shit -- dude. Oh, fuck, you scared the hell out of me.” Timmy sounded out of breath. Armie pulled his keys out from the lock and shut the door softly behind him._

_“Yeah?” Armie hummed curiously, slowly making his way into the living room to see what had Timmy so terrified and absorbed. “What, were you worried that Jack Nicholson stole my apartment key and then came here specifically to murder you?”_

_Timmy shifted under the blanket and his middle finger poked out, making Armie laugh heartily. Timmy smiled sheepishly and then pulled the blanket back up, covering his mouth so he was just eyes once again._

_“Have you never seen this?” Armie tried to remember what he could of The Shining. It looked like Timmy must have only just started to get to the good parts. He stood there for a few moments, pretending to watch the screen but really he was watching Timmy._

_“No but my manager at work gave me so much shit today about not seeing it so --”_

_Armie watched Timmy shrug from under the blanket, eyes still on the screen for a few seconds until he looked over at him so quickly that Armie almost jumped. Timmy sat forward, the blanket falling off his shoulders -- Armie told himself to ignore the fact Timmy was wearing his shirt, again -- and looked up at him hopefully._

_“Are you going to bed or…?” Timmy looked nervous and Armie felt himself immediately soften at the way he was looking up at him. “Did you, maybe, wanna watch the movie with me?” Timmy chewed his bottom lip and before Armie could even respond, he was already retreating back into his blanket. “Nevermind, I’m sorry. You’re probably tired from work and wanna sleep.”_

_Armie ignored the strange tension of guilt in his belly and instead pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He sent a text to the unassigned number of the girl he was meant to meet up with._

_“Scoot over.”_

“I’ll talk to Liz. You probably don’t want to sit through the same movie twice --” Armie suggested, already reaching for his phone. 

“No, it’s okay! I don’t mind. We didn’t really, uh, _pay much attention._ We left early.” Nick looked both shy and proud of himself, but obviously happy to finally share some of the information that only a best friend would be privy to. Armie tightened his lips into a smile. It was embarrassing how strangled his laugh came out but Nick looked so far away that Armie knew it didn’t matter. Nick was smitten, so fucking smitten. 

“That’s uh, that’s great, man.” Armie didn’t know what to say so he dropped his phone and grabbed a pile of papers, shuffling them around in desperation for the moment to end.

“I have a shit ton of orders to take care of and there’s an issue with one of the distributors so --” Armie explained. Nick came back to reality, took the hint and nodded.

“My bad! I’ll just hit you up around 6?” he asked, leaning down to hoist the heavy bag back onto his shoulders with ease. Armie watched Nick’s biceps flex, his skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was held back with a fabric headband, making his dark, straight hair look sleek and slicked back. Armie had never been jealous of his best friend’s good looks before but seeing him now, so casually good-looking, soft smile, and unthreatening warmth, he couldn’t help but think that for every good quality he saw and liked about Nick, Timmy did too. In a much different way. 

-

Armie sat half dressed at the edge of his bed, his hair finally dry from the shower he’d taken as soon as he got home from a night out with Nick and Liz. He hadn’t found the energy to put on anything other than a pair of sweats. 

The time on his phone told him that it was too early for sleep, but too late to make any other plans for the night. Normally, this would mean scrolling through Tinder or hitting up a possible repeat hook-up from his contacts but as he considered the prospects, he realized that his desire to fuck someone wasn’t really a desire at all, just habit. For once in his life he felt like he might have better things to do than get laid. He wondered to himself if Timmy was home, closing his eyes as if trying to imagine him in his room, pink headphones on as he laid sprawled across his bed, in the shirt he gave him, or maybe even the sweater that he had yet to give back. 

Armie could practically hear Liz clicking her tongue in disapproval. It hadn’t been his intention to tell her about Timmy but after listening to Nick go on and on all night about the date with his roommate, asking him endless questions about what sort of things Timmy liked or didn’t like, Liz had picked up on Armie’s vibe - one that he hadn’t been aware he’d been putting out.

_“Spill it, Armie,” she had demanded when Nick went off to the bathroom during their post-movie round of drinks at a bar nearby his apartment. He had been confused for all of twenty seconds before her penetrating brown eyes broke him. He sighed and downed the rest of his drink._

_“Spill what? Nick is dating my roommate,” he had answered simply, shrugging a careless shoulder, as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth after he finished off his beer. She cocked an extremely threatening, pointed eyebrow. He gave in with another sigh, waving down the bartender for another pint._

_“Look, he’s just. He’s fucking cute, alright? That’s it. I had no idea that he was going to be this… fucking, young, pretty --” Armie struggled to find the appropriate selection of words that would do justice in describing Timmy. He gave up with a heaving breath, “ -- Bundle of fucking curls.”_

_Liz stared at him so hard that he had to look away. She had asked him before about Timmy, back when she first encountered him in the kitchen, but Armie didn’t have much to say back then. At that point Timmy really had been just a bundle of curls. Clearly, she saw through him and Armie was reminded of how much he disliked how calculating she could be. How right she always was._

_“Armie…” Liz started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head, silently warning her not to go there. She didn’t listen. “Don’t do this to Nick. Whatever this little crush is or infatuation...he doesn’t deserve to have his best friend swoop in and take it away from him. Not again.”_

_Armie had been nodding his head, muttering “I know, fuck. I get it, Liz. I know,” with every other word she spoke but her final warning had been the line he was waiting for her to cross. His eyes glared over as the bartender set another beer down in front of him._

_“It’s not a crush, or an infatuation and I’m done talking about this.” Armie hardly believed himself but he needed Liz to, especially after that low blow. He felt a soft anger surge through him over the fact that she, of all people, would be so judgemental about something that they had both been responsible for all those years ago._

Armie pushed Liz from his mind and didn’t think twice about the text he typed up to Timmy. He balanced his phone on his knee, watching and waiting patiently for Timmy’s text bubbles appear.

AH: You still owe me a pizza night.

It took two minutes before Timmy responded, not that Armie was counting.

TC: i do?

AH: Free tonight?  
AH: I could order one now and have it here by the time you get home.  
AH: What do you say?

TC: i am home lol

Armie frowned at his phone. He had been sure that Timmy was out because of how quiet the apartment had been when he got home. He strained his ears as if he’d suddenly be able to hear Timmy breathing through the walls. There was nothing. He almost never heard silence coming from Timmy’s room, even if he was sleeping there was usually a low hum of music or even movie playing. 

AH: No playlist tonight?

Armie started to type a follow up message, one asking if Timmy was alright, but Timmy sent another, apparently anticipating his concern.

TC: kind of had a bad day

It took Armie less than ten seconds to throw on a shirt, text Timmy, and pull open his bedroom door.

AC: Meet me in the kitchen.

-

Timmy stared at him over the kitchen island, confusion clearly written all over his face. Armie ignored the way his curls were lumped together on one side of his head, like he’d been laying in bed all evening. He almost regretted asking him to come out at all, because even though he had no idea what to expect when he saw Timmy, a sleepy, forlorn, rumpled looking Timmy _was not it._ Timmy was also in his shirt, again. Did Timmy sleep in it a lot? Every time he saw him wearing the shirt, it was late at night. Armie forced that question from his mind - he was better off not knowing.

“Hey…” Timmy bent an elbow behind himself to scratch the back of his head, swaying gently. The other hand tugged at the bottom of his shirt, making his chest and clavicle appear every time he yanked it downwards. Armie didn’t know how to look away and the worst part was that he was pretty sure Timmy had no idea how captivating every little thing he did was. 

“So a bad day, huh?” Armie asked, leaning forward over the island. His palms felt sweaty but like everything that seemed to involve his emotions about Timmy, he ignored it. “Is it a ‘want to talk about it’ bad day, or ‘late night pancakes and getting high’ type bad day?”

Timmy giggled nervously, scrunching his face up on one side as he swayed harder, probably weighing his options, deciding what sounded best. Armie waited on pins and needles. 

“Mmmm, let’s go with —” Timmy suddenly smiled brightly, so big that Armie would have never guessed he’d had a bad day, because how could anyone whose smile looked _like that_ deserve anything other than the best days? “Pancakes. I fucking love pancakes.”

-

They smoked out on the balcony, mostly in silence. Timmy seemed to keep opening his mouth in preparation to speak but apparently deciding against it. Armie wanted to call him out on it but it was kind of sweet watching him go through the motions. As readable as Timmy seemed to be sometimes, Armie also had no fucking clue what was going on in his head.

Armie kept laughing at the way Timmy would bounce from one foot to another, obviously freezing cold, but refusing Armie’s attempts to get him a jacket or a blanket. 

“Nah, it’s cool. It’s good, I like it.” _Liar,_ Armie thought affectionately. By the time they were both high as a fucking kite, Armie was glad for the frigid air because Timmy’s nose was tinted pink right at the tip.

“Okay, I’m really fucking high,” Timmy’s voice sounded like a low, soft hum to Armie’s ears. It simultaneously warmed him and gave him chills. Armie raised an eyebrow, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his lips. 

“Yeah, like how high?” he asked, flicking the roach of the joint into the ashtray that balanced on the corner of the railing.

“Liiiiiike,” Timmy opened his mouth wide, his eyes hooded and glazed over. He licked his lips, smacking them apart after impact. He laughed that wheezy, embarrassingly cute laugh that Armie always got stuck in his head. “Like, if I don’t have pancakes _immediately_ I might cease to exist.”

-

“I don’t see any pancake mix.” Timmy craned his neck to look at the higher shelves of the cabinet. Armie tried not to think about how endearing it was that he was standing on his tiptoes even though it was completely unnecessary. He also noted the light pink socks but decided not to comment on it. 

“Pancake _mix?_ What do you take me for?” Armie scoffed, a teasing smile on his lips. He walked up behind Timmy and reached over him, grabbing the flour from the top shelf. “We make our food from scratch, like men.”

Timmy rolled his eyes and took a step back, he lowered his voice and muttered back at Armie in a playfully condescending way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea this was Iron MasterChef.”

“ _Iron MasterChef?”_ Armie balked. Timmy’s face turned red instantly. 

“Yeah, fuck. What, is that not what it’s called?” Timmy lifted a hand to his cheek, a timid chuckle puttering from his lips. Armie’s head fell back as he heaved with laughter.

“You mean _Iron_ Chef or _Master_ Chef.” 

Timmy immediately threw his elbow over his face to hide his embarrassment, probably his blush too, and Armie relished in the way his laughter rumbled under his arm.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it is.” Armie winced and opened up the packet of flour. He scooped some of it onto his fingertips and tossed it at Timmy. “You should probably just go back to your room and mope some more.”

“That’s low,” Timmy tittered as he swiped the back of his hand over his nose to remove the flour Armie had attacked him with. “Keep at it and maybe I will. Then I’ll depress you with the saddest songs you’ll ever hear in your life.”

Armie laughed deeply, putting his focus back on the bowl he’d grabbed to start mixing ingredients. “Putting the Shins on repeat is only depressing because of how frequently you do it.”

Timmy smacked his hand over his chest, a soft _thud_ where his heart was located underneath all that smooth skin and thin cotton fabric. Armie cleared his throat, trying to hide behind his own laughter.

“You really know how to cheer a guy up,” Timmy grinned sharply. Armie looked towards Timmy and their eyes lingered on each other for a moment, a silence creeping between them as their smiles reflected off one another. Armie exhaled softly through his nose.

“Hey…” Armie turned his body, his face melting into seriousness. He placed a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, giving it a few firm squeezes. He took in a breath, preparing as if he had something really important and meaningful to say. Timmy looked tense, his body on edge beneath his fingertips. Timmy did that thing where he stood on his tiptoes unncessarily. Armie waited a minute, simply looking at Timmy looking back at him before he patted his back, dragging the moment out for as long as possible before he suddenly turned away. 

“How about your make yourself useful and crack some eggs?” Armie winked. The words that he had momentarily considered saying to comfort Timmy faded when green eyes took him in. Armie thought of Nick, their date, the movie theatre and the couch at Nick’s house. Nick had told him everything and Armie knew he had no right to appreciate Timmy’s gaze on him like he just had, no permit to like the way that Timmy’s shoulder seemed to push against his palm. The bubbling of shame started to wash over him. _Just make fucking pancakes, Armie,_ he thought to himself. 

-

Timmy’s curls bounced against his forehead as he heaved forward, his face pulled into such a tight, wide smile, nose scrunched, eyes squeezed shut, that Armie couldn’t help but laugh and look at him like he was insane. 

“You look so ridiculous right now,” Armie fell forward, joining in with the infectious wheeze that was flowing from the vibrating collection of limbs that was Timmy rolling around on the couch. They had opted to eat their pancakes on the couch and Timmy was a mess, literally. The cap of the syrup bottle had fallen off when he squeezed it which resulted in completely drenched pancakes. Armie offered to share his but Timmy claimed he could handle it… only now there was syrup everywhere; hands, lips, even hair sticking to the side of his cheek and against the corner of his mouth.

“Oh no, I got some on my shirt,” Timmy’s laughter subsided as he sucked some syrup off his thumb and replaced it with saliva. He rubbed his thumb over the fabric, making the stain worse, but Armie was far too mesmerized to say anything about it.

“ _Your_ shirt,” Timmy added, his chin down but eyes flickering upwards through his dark lashes. Armie looked up at him and try as he might to ignore it, he felt his entire body set fire.

“I don’t think I ever said thanks,” Timmy went on as he licked his thumb again, still working on the stain. “I’d never listened to The Cardigans before. Kind of surprised you’re into ‘em.” Armie shrugged nonchalantly, thinking back to when he’d made the choice to give Timmy the shirt in the first place. He hadn’t kept any of his clothes from college because he was a lot smaller back then and most of it didn’t fit now, but a few band shirts had made the cut just for nostalgia's sake. After getting to know Timmy through the music he heard every night through the walls, it just seemed fitting. 

“Well, I was back in college,” Armie shrugged again, poking his fork into the fluff of the pancakes. “I was a lot cooler back then.”

“Obviously,” Timmy threw back at him so quickly Armie snorted. Their laughter shifted easily into a comfortable silence and Armie gave up on picking at his food. He had devoured three enormous pancakes already but there were still two left on his plate. Their stoned-eyes were far bigger and hungrier than their stomachs. Timmy was still working on the syrup that had streaked down the front of his shirt. Armie realized he looked genuinely upset about it.

“Hey -- stop,” Armie leaned forward to set his plate down and then pinched Timmy’s shirt between his fingers, assessing the damage. “You’re just making it worse. Come on.” Armie stood up and offered his hand out to Timmy, who just stared at his hand until Armie smiled and nodded assuringly. Armie tried his best to ignore the sensation of Timmy’s fingers lingering on his before they let go. 

As Armie led the way down the hall, everything felt like slow motion. The only light source was coming from the lamp in the living room which was casting an orange glow down along the floor of the hallway where it eventually met the silver glow of the moon shining through the window from the opposite end. Armie looked over his shoulder and caught Timmy’s eyes staring hard at him but when he realized Armie had caught him, his eyes retreated down to his feet. Armie smiled to himself. He hated how much he liked watching Timmy flee from his glances. Timmy probably wouldn’t want to know how often he caught him looking away, and Armie didn’t want him to know, because he didn’t want it to stop. 

At the end of the hallway, there was a small walk-in sized closet that barely fit their stacked washer and dryer, but Armie stepped in anyway and waited for Timmy to join him. Armie looked smugly out the corner of his eye as he reached up to a shelf over Timmy and grabbed a small container of homemade stain remover. 

“Take your shirt off,” he said simply. Timmy didn’t move an inch.

“Huh?” 

Armie laughed. “Your shirt -- _off._ ” Timmy still looked hesitant. Armie rolled his eyes. 

“If you’re shy, I can turn around?” Timmy laughed then, his head falling into his hands. He mocked Armie like he had earlier, firing off another terrible attempt at deepening his already thick voice. 

“I can turn around,” Timmy mimicked like a petulant child, scrunching his nose before moving to do as Armie requested. Armie tried not to think about how close their bodies were, or how when Timmy shifted to lift his arms that the back of his hands drifted over his body, so close that it gave him goosebumps. Armie considered turning on the light, but the dark made him feel safe, open, and he wondered if that was how Timmy felt too.

Timmy’s curls stood higher once he pulled the shirt over his shoulders, always so messy, muttering a “sorry, sorry,” to Armie when he accidentally bumped into him upon removal. He crumpled the shirt in his hands and passed it off to Armie, then twisted his arms together in front of his body. 

“I can’t do your laundry forever, you know,” Armie teased, unable to stop his eyes from cascading down Timmy’s bare chest, over his arms that were covering most of his stomach. Armie swallowed before taking in a sharp breath, clearing his throat and unfolding the shirt in his hands. “Pay close attention.”

“I am,” Timmy responded and when Armie looked back over towards him, he couldn’t read the expression on his face.


	4. part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! missed you.  
> just want to say thank you again to everyone for showing their love in their own way, whether its by comments, kudos, messages, etc  
> it literally fuels me and makes me want to run away from life & write forever and ever just for you guys.  
> this is all fiction n stuffff.
> 
> ps - the POVs shift midway through the chap! hope it’s not too off putting.

Timmy picked up his pink iphone to check the time — it was 5:47AM. He had class in a few hours but had already accepted that sleep would be impossible. He was still so keyed up after the night he’d just spent with Armie. They had only said goodnight less than an hour ago and he was already replaying the events of the evening over and over again in his mind, desperate to experience them as many times as possible before the memories were hazed over by time and distance. He wriggled around against his mattress as a sudden rush of giddiness and adrenaline overtook him, his heart pumping extra with each thought of Armie; Armie looking at him, smiling at him, teasing him relentlessly. His laugh too. Timmy wanted to listen to him laugh on repeat, forever.

“Oh my god, oh my gooooood,” Timmy half screamed into his pillow as he flopped over onto his bare belly, kicking his legs to try to shake some of the nerves he couldn’t seem to get out of his system. He rolled back over breathlessly onto his back, a smile on his face as he closed his eyes and thought of Armie again.

_“I really can’t picture you doing anything athletic,” Armie laughed at him in disbelief, his smile creeping all the way to his ears. Timmy reached behind his head and pulled one of the pillows out from behind him to throw at him. Armie caught it and laughed harder, they both did. Timmy blushed and playfully nudged Armie with his foot, trying to look offended but unable to stop smiling. His cheeks were aching by this point._

_They were sitting on the couch in the living room, Netflix playing reruns of an old show in the background but the sound was on mute because they’d been talking nonstop all night - or morning, really, so they hadn’t even attempted to pay attention to anything other than each other._

_“You really used to play soccer?”_

_“Yes, for the millionth time,” Timmy scoffed. “Fuck, you’re giving me a complex,” he laughed, tightening the blanket around his bare belly and chest. He hadn’t put a shirt on once they left the laundry room, instead grabbing the floral blanket from his room and wrapping himself up like usual. He told himself it was out of convenience but there was a part of him that knew it was because he wanted the thrill of being shirtless around Armie to last as long as possible. And yeah, maybe each time Timmy laughed he purposefully let the blanket slip from his shoulders, making a show of opening each edge of the blanket when he shuffled the fabric back up his body, his stomach and chest in direct line of sight of Armie who was seated at the opposite end of the couch, looking his way but pretending not to, or so Timmy hoped._

_“Why’d you stop playing?”_

_“I broke my ankle pretty bad during a game. Kind of traumatizing.” Timmy winced at the memory, a chill running down his spine. Armie seemed sympathetic, but curious. “Left a pretty gnarly scar on my ankle,” Timmy threw in as a means to keep him interested. It worked better than he could have dreamed._

_“Can I see it?” Armie asked, his fingers already stretched out towards his ankle. Timmy shifted and un-tucked his toes from under Armie’s thigh where they had been warm and secured all night. He wasn’t sure when it had become habit for them to sit like this on the couch whenever they watched TV together but neither of them questioned it and Timmy refused to bring it up out of fear it’d suddenly stop._

_“Sure,” his voice shook as he lifted his foot, gently pressing the pad of the bottom against the top of Armie’s thigh. Timmy felt his own thigh tremble as he bent his knee to hold his foot steady, swallowing nerves and inappropriate thoughts as he tried to figure out if the heat he felt between them was coming from his body or Armie’s. “It’s um, it’s just —“ Timmy leaned forward to point out his scar, the blanket falling in a heap around his bare stomach. God, why didn’t he put on another shirt after they left the laundry room? Timmy didn’t move to cover himself though, his mind focused solely on the long, strong fingers that Armie had wrapped around his calf, slowly lifting his foot upwards. He should’ve worn thicker sweats, he thought to himself. Timmy fell back against the arm of the couch when Armie’s hand at his calf gave the muscle a gentle squeeze. “—Right there…”_

_Armie had already found the scar on the inner part of his ankle, right where the skin was thinnest, most sensitive, and was trailing two fingers over the zigzag where the stitches had been. Timmy was grateful for the thick blanket in his lap because his cock was refusing to listen to his pleas to remain calm._

_“Mmm, looks like it was pretty deep.”_

_Fuck. Timmy’s thoughts kept screaming the word ‘deep’ repeatedly in the back of his mind, making him unwillingly shift his lower back against the arm of the couch. Armie looked over at him as he moved and a twitch of a smile curved the corners of his mouth. Timmy wondered if Armie had any idea what he was doing to him right now, the fingers still stroking the jagged edges of the scar on his ankle, the other hand gripping the muscle of his calf — Timmy’s entire body suddenly betrayed him and a strangled, awkward sounding whine escaped his mouth. He would have panicked but when Armie smiled wider, he considered for a moment that maybe Armie intended for him to feel this way..._

_“What, are you ticklish?” Armie asked, suddenly pulling his fingers away. Timmy was ticklish but that was the furthest sensation he was feeling in his body in that moment. Still, he lied and shrugged._

_“No. Your hands are just kind of cold.” Another lie. Armie’s eyes glimmered with amusement and Timmy swallowed back even more nerves, his stomach and chest heaving as his breathing became more sporadic._

_“My hands are cold?” Armie must have known he was bluffing by the tone of his voice. Timmy nodded self-consciously, opening his mouth but all that came out was a surprised yelp when Armie suddenly gripped his calf tightly, holding him in place, and then started to tickle his foot. Timmy writhed and squirmed, laughing and squealing as he cursed, trying to break free as Armie let his hands torment every part of his lower body._

_“Not ticklish, huh? Bullshit,” Armie laughed, both hands now pinching at the backs of his knees, occasionally his thigh, his large body turned and leaning over the bottom half of his legs. Timmy almost moaned when he felt Armie’s hand against his bare hip but the sudden shift of Armie practically leaning over him made him jump and he slipped off the couch entirely with a thud._  
  
Timmy rubbed his eyes, unknowing if he should be embarrassed or turned on. Maybe both. Rationally, he knew that it wasn’t normal for two grown men to basically wrestle alone on a couch in the middle of the night, but with every optimistic thought that crossed his mind, two more would swoop in and remind him that Armie couldn’t possibly want him. Armie had set him up with Nick, afterall.

Before his mind could start to wander off into Armie’s room, or contemplate whether Armie was struggling to sleep or, god forbid, _thinking about him_ , Timmy decided to check his social media.

Out of habit, he scrolled through Twitter first then moved on to Instagram. Immediately, guilt overtook every good feeling he’d just been basking in. Nick had posted a photo at some point last night; a high angle shot of him eating a burger. Timmy found it morbidly amusing because it seemed like the kind of thing Armie would post if he had any social media. Close but not quite, Timmy thought to himself as he double tapped the screen to give the photo a like.

He suddenly remembered that Nick had also sent him a text at some point last night, which he’d chosen not to look at, for fear that Armie might notice - a thought that made him feel even more sick with guilt. It was a feeling he was starting to become accustomed to; the twisting ache in his gut felt like a constant headache, always lurking and not always unbearable.

Timmy closed the app and opened his messages. Nick had sent him a photo similar to the one he’d posted, only this photo included Nick making a cute, silly face, straight teeth and dark eyes. It was accompanied with a few heart emojis and a message -

NS: doing a thing at the brewery tomorrow night  
NS: you should come by :)

Timmy turned over to his side and read the message a few times over, partially wondering what could be going on at the brewery, but mostly disappointed that he had spent all night with Armie but was never invited by the man himself. Timmy felt his stomach drop and his mind start to race for explanation, but before he could convince himself otherwise, he responded -

TC: sounds good, i’ll see you there

—

“It’s really cute when you smile like that,” Nick muttered against the shell of his ear, his smooth lips making Timmy’s body shiver. Despite himself, Timmy’s eyes glanced around the room nervously, flitting from corner to corner as if he had _no idea_ that Armie was behind the bar, chatting with co-workers, laughing loudly, with his back turned to him. As if he had no idea where Armie had been at all times tonight.

Timmy’s eyes fluttered shut when he felt Nick’s mouth purposefully press against the soft flesh of his earlobe and despite himself again, Timmy whimpered softly at the affection. He brushed his lips over Nick’s, the familiar warmth of his breath bringing him back to the couch they had made out on in Nick’s apartment. Timmy felt his body react to the memory of Nick straddling him, mentally comparing how his weight had felt on top of him then and how he felt now with Nick tucked between his legs as he sat on a bar stool. He wanted to enjoy it, but even with three strong beers sitting at the bottom of his belly, the alcohol failed in making him unaffected by the fact that all he could sense was Armie from across the room.

Timmy pulled back after the kiss, the blush on his cheeks having nothing to do with the lips he’d just held against his own and he cleared his throat, reaching to take another long swig of his beer.

“So... do you guys do this often?” Timmy motioned with a careless hand all around the brewery, leaning back to give himself some distance from Nick but he kept his knees pressed against his hips because even though the kissing was overwhelming, Timmy still liked the warmth of his body. He told himself it wasn’t to make Armie jealous because that’d be impossible — he’d have to care in order to be jealous.

“Like once a month. Sort of like employee appreciation, I guess. It was Armie’s idea.”

The brewery had closed early that night, the staff kicking everyone out that wasn’t a close friend or invitee of the workers on shift that night, then locked the doors. There was music playing overhead which someone was controlling from an iPod behind the bar and everyone was spread out around the bar top and high tables, helping themselves to beer from the drafts whenever they needed one, eating pizza that had been delivered from the place two buildings over. Armie ordered more cheese than normal, someone had complained.

“That’s really cool,” Timmy nodded, using the fact Nick said Armie’s name as an excuse to freely look over at him, even for just few seconds. They hadn’t talked much tonight -- as soon as Timmy had showed up, barely climbing off his bike, Nick had swooped in and started showing him around. It was cute how excited he was, giving him a tour, having him try different beers, introducing him to friends and staff.

The only significant interaction between him and Armie had been when Timmy was nervous to accept any drinks. Nick told him it was fine but he was underage, technically, and had never drank anywhere this public. But Armie came in and eased his worries, had even teased him — right in front of everyone, playfully, openly, just like he would at home — and Timmy had felt himself go dizzy with pride that Armie would show him that kind of attention outside in the ‘real world.’ Sometimes he was sure that that version of Armie only existed in the comfort of their shared living room, but tonight felt different, if only for just that one moment.

“I’m glad you came out. I know we’ve been texting but I just wanted to say to you, again, in person … I really had a good time the other night,” Nick’s voice pulled Timmy out of his thoughts and he felt his stomach tighten with nerves.

“Oh, yeah,” he licked over his lips, suddenly thirsty and uncomfortable. It was easy to be physical with Nick but to be upfront about his feelings was something else entirely and the beer wasn’t doing him any favors. Timmy felt a layer of sweat form over his body and with a tight smile he nodded his head, probably far too enthusiastically. “It was a good time. I like hanging out with you.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Nick chuckled, clearly picking up on the discomfort that Timmy was feeling. Timmy was glad Nick found it endearing but in turn that made him feel like a terrible person — Timmy desperately wanted to like Nick but as the alcohol burned hotter in his system, the more abundantly clear it became that Armie was the only thing his body wanted to be wrapped around.

“I’m always nervous,” Timmy retorted, a pathetic attempt to brush off Nick’s compliment. Nick smiled wide and bumped his hip against Timmy’s inner knee.

“My point exactly.”

Timmy finished off his beer and asked for a fourth. The rest of the night became a blur.

—

Timmy had been the hit of the party, the center of almost everyone’s attention all night. Armie was sure he’d never seen Timmy so animated before, his face rosy and excited, practically bouncing, eyes wide as he told the same hilarious story for the third time that night. Armie would have been embarrassed about how long it’d taken him to ‘officially’ meet his roommate, but then he would have never got the chance to hear Timmy tell everyone their story, each retelling becoming more and more exaggerated and climatic. Armie loved every second of it.

At some point, later in the night, Armie made the realization that Timmy wasn’t just _animated_ but actually quite drunk, and that was when he had started to keep an extra close eye. He’d been trying his best all night to give Timmy and Nick space - because that was the respectable thing to do - but he couldn’t deny that he had a sense of protectiveness of Timmy. Armie moved closer to where a crowd of people had formulated near the speakers, dancing and swaying with the music, Timmy at the center, Armie offhandedly wondered when so many more people had showed up but mostly his focus was on Timmy.

Timmy lifted his arms up over his head as he danced. Armie made note of the irony of the Spin Doctor’s _Two Princes_ playing in the background. The light pink hoodie Timmy was wearing seemed to be a size too small, his lower belly peeking out from beneath the hemline with every movement. It was captivating to see Timmy like this, though Armie couldn’t deny that he felt an unwelcomed rush of annoyance as everyone peered over at the brunette, his wild curls, hips, and belly swaying all over the place. Everyone was obviously infatuated with him which made Armie feel protective in a much different way.

“Who is that?”

Armie didn’t take his eyes off Timmy when a voice suddenly appeared in his left ear. Timmy was not only dancing now but also singing along to the music, spinning around.

“That’s my roommate,” he answered, still transfixed.

“Oh, Nick’s boyfriend?”

“What?” Armie’s head snapped to the person at his side suddenly, his face full of confusion, shock. Had they made it official already? Armie hadn’t thought they’d been that serious, not yet. His heart pounded against his ribs but he never got a chance to clarify because suddenly there was too much commotion, too much noise, and when Armie looked back over to Timmy, he was gone.

A few feet away Nick waved him over with a worried look, Timmy buried into the crook of his best friend’s neck.

“I’m going to take him home. He’s really drunk,” Nick explained, his arm around Timmy’s shoulder. Timmy swayed, twisting his body so that the back of his head was now resting against Nick’s shoulder, his eyes closed, a sheen of sweat over his forehead.

“Yeah, okay. That’s probably a good idea,” Armie replied anxiously, already planning to shut everything down so he could go home to help with however he could. Timmy’s eyes snapped openly suddenly and he lurched forward, shoving Nick’s arm off his shoulder. Nick took a step back, looking confused and unsure.

“No, no. I don’t want _Nick_ to take me home,” Timmy grumbled, his voice sleepy and just slightly slurred. Nick stepped forward and placed a gentle hand against his cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re all heading home soon anyway. Let’s get you to b—” Nick frowned when he tried to put his arm around Timmy again and was shrugged off.

“No, nuh uh. I don’t want _you_ to take me home, Nick.” Timmy poked Nick in the chest with a sway before twirling around on his toes and facing Armie.

“Armie! I want _Armie_ to take me hoooome.”

Even with how loud the brewery was, Armie couldn’t hear anything except the blood rushing to his ears. Nick looked hurt, Armie could tell in an instant. His own face flushed unlike it ever had before and when Nick’s eyes caught his, Armie had to force himself not to look away. He knew exactly what Nick was thinking and a panic ran over his skin as he tried to play it off.

“He’s just,” Armie fumbled to find the right words. Nick was staring at him, one arm stretched out to balance Timmy by his lower back. Timmy’s head was tilted back, his eyes closed, muttering something under his breath but Armie couldn’t make sense of it. “I’ll close up here and you get him--”

“It’s fine, Armie. You get him home. I understand,” Nick smiled softly, but Armie knew that something was strained - whether it was just his feelings being hurt by Timmy or something else, he didn’t know. Timmy’s head started to fall forward and he stumbled. Nick moved swiftly, catching Timmy by the arm. Timmy looked at Nick but Armie couldn’t tell what expression he was wearing. Armie looked down at his feet.

“Armie will take you home,” Nick explained to Timmy, who looked over his shoulder and waved. Armie waved a hand back, his chin still pointed downwards, eyes unfocused so as not to intrude. Nick sighed.

“Are you mad at me?” Timmy asked Nick, his voice soft and shaky. Armie had never heard Timmy cry but he wondered if this was what it might sound like just before it broke. Armie felt Nick’s eyes flutter, Timmy’s words clearly doing something for him to ease the discomfort of the situation. Nick kissed Timmy’s forehead.

-

“Mmm’don’t wanna to be drunk anymore,” Timmy sighed, his head rolling from side to side over his shoulders. He threw his elbow over his face to shield his eyes from the motion of the world.

“You just need to sleep,” Armie offered quietly. He had nearly five years drinking experience on Timmy and he felt guilty for allowing him to get so plastered in the first place. He felt responsible to make sure Timmy’s hangover wasn’t as bad as it could be. “Get into bed, I’ll go get you some water.”

It took a few more minutes of coaxing to get Timmy off the couch but eventually he stumbled his way towards the hallway and Armie rushed to grab a large glass of water and ibuprofen. He hurried over to Timmy’s room, nearly falling over Timmy’s converse and jeans along the way, realizing that he must have taken his clothes off in the hallway - a thought that made Armie’s stomach knot immediately. He waited a minute at Timmy’s door, trying to listen for any sound but when all he heard was silence he slowly turned the door knob and squinted into the darkened room. Timmy wasn’t there.

“What the hell?” Armie mumbled under his breath, taking a look back into the living room just in case he’d walked right by him. No sign of Timmy. The bathroom? He walked down the hall, readying himself to see a half-naked Timmy curled around the toilet but when he opened the door it was empty as well.

Then it dawned on him; he knew where Timmy was. Armie’s stomach knotted even tighter.

“Timmy,” Armie smiled as his eyes fell on a curled up, bare legged Timmy in the center of his bed. His socks were mismatch, two different shades of black, and his pink hoodie bunched up against his chest, revealing even more bare skin than Armie could comprehend. He’d seen Timmy shirtless the night before but this was different; Timmy was _in his bed_ , blankets kicked down to the floor, sheets disheveled underneath him as if he’d been wiggling around in an attempt to get comfortable.

Armie walked over and took a seat at the edge of the mattress, setting the water and pills down on the nightstand.

“Hey, party animal, you’re in my bed.”

Timmy curled in on himself even tighter, a smug smile on his face. His eyes were closed but Armie could tell he was still very much awake by the rhythm of his breathing.

“Your bed is more comfortable than mine,” Timmy sighed, defiance obvious. He wasn’t moving. “I like it better than my bed. I _belong_ in this bed.”

Armie chuckled and rubbed the bridge of his nose, uncertain what to do. “You’re just drunk.”

“I like it here even when I’m not drunk,” Timmy confessed, having no idea how consequential his words were. Armie didn’t get a chance to react because suddenly Timmy was sitting up, smirking at him mischievously, poking him playfully in the stomach.

“You should sleep in my bed,” Timmy spoke so casually, as if _of course_ that would be the next natural step. Armie laughed, his head tilting to the side in wonderment. He wondered if Timmy had any idea how inappropriate his suggestion was, or maybe it was only inappropriate because Armie couldn’t control his own anguish and desire for him.

“Why would I sleep in your bed?” he asked Timmy, his voice low and curious. Armie knew he shouldn’t encourage the conversation but with the veil of drunkenness it felt like now might be the only time to have an excuse to do so. He really wished he was a better friend — or maybe a worse one, because all he could see was Timmy’s wet lips and hooded eyes as they sat face to face. He wondered how soft his mouth was.

“Because,” Timmy hiccuped, his cheeks flushing but eyes determined. He reached out and brushed a strand of Armie’s hair from his forehead, his glazed over eyes all over his skin before he flopped back down against his pillow. Armie sighed, pulling back before he even realized he had been leaning in.

“Not so fast, take these and drink water. All of it.” Armie grabbed the pills and water and sat with Timmy until the entire glass was empty. Timmy hardly put up a fight, his drunken state and sleepiness starting to take over him completely. He smacked his lips as Armie set the glass down and then slid down against the mattress, curling up against the pillows, nuzzling his face against the smooth cotton. Armie grabbed the blanket from the floor and covered him, his knuckles grazing Timmy’s shoulders as he released the fabric.

Armie stood up and watched Timmy for a few moments, eyes already closed and a soft, shallow snore coming from his chest. Armie knew this would be the one and only time he’d ever get to see him under his covers. He turned to leave, opting for the couch instead of the floor but as he headed towards the doorway, Timmy spoke up.

“Because then my bed will smell like you.”


	5. part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii. this chapter was...enormous so i cut it in two because i am a menace.  
> thank you, as always, for showing your love for this story in all the different ways you do. i love hearing from all of you & I apologize for being kinda the worst at responding to comments and messages but TRUST, they mean the world to me.  
> also thank you to everyone that let’s me shout about this story to them, helps me edit and run things by them incessantly. you know who you are.  
> also a special shout out to j — 💓💓💓

Armie hesitated once he breached the elastic of his boxer briefs, his four fingers resting against the base of his cock, already hard and twitching, emanating heat with expectation, need. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his shallow breathing. He contemplated the morality of what he was about to do in Timmy’s bed.

_”Goodnight, Timmy,” Armie had smiled from the doorway before shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He didn’t wait for Timmy to respond out of fear of what else his roommate’s drunken lips might confess to and quite frankly, Armie was really starting to doubt his own ability to shut the fuck up._

_He had stayed up a while longer, sitting on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through Timmy’s ‘continue watching’ list on Netflix and couldn’t help but smile to himself over some of the titles. Did he really have it so bad for the kid that he found it painfully endearing that Timmy had only made it halfway through the documentary Dogs but almost all of Superbad?_

_By the time he’d given up on Netflix, his mind had started swirling through a repeat of everything Timmy had done that night— like how he’d rolled down the window and sang Mariah Carey acapella on the drive home from the brewery, making up new lines that definitely didn’t belong in the original version, or how he’d confessed that he lied about locking himself out in a desperate attempt for them to meet, and worst (or best) of all was how Timmy had implied that somehow he had been in Armie’s bed before….Armie’s eyes were too heavy to hold open much longer, and before he could talk himself out of it, he hurried into Timmy’s room and climbed in the messy bed, pulling the floral blanket Timmy was so often wrapped in up to his chin, and closed his eyes._

_Only, sleep evaded Armie just as soon as Timmy was all around him. His eyes adjusted to the dark and after a few blinks he looked around the room that he used to use as an office, plain, boring, empty. Timmy had given it life. Liz was the one that suggested he get a roommate, oddly enough, and of all the people in New York that might have taken him up on the offer, he found it completely amazing and irrationally frustrating that it was Timmy who had come into his life. His lips twitched into a soft smile as he started looked around the room more carefully._

_The walls were minimally covered but the photos and posters that were hung around the small space seemed to scream _Timmy_ in a way that Armie knew he'd never be able to explain. It made the room seem full, despite the lack of actual frames on the walls. Clearly doodling on the whiteboard on their fridge wasn’t just a hobby, because there was art that Armie recognized as Timmy’s style hanging up, a few framed album covers, an Arcade Fire poster above a pretty impressive turntable set up. There were two medium sized shelves filled completely with vinyl records and texts books and notebooks littered over almost every surface. Timmy’s closet was wide open and clothes were hanging everywhere; hanging off a chair by the window, half way out of the hamper in the corner, converse and Nike shoes everywhere, and sweaters, so many sweaters, hanging on multi colored hangers in the closet. _

_It wasn’t until he noticed the wilting sunflower on Timmy’s dresser, laid out next to a jar of weed that was nearly empty, that he felt guilt burn in his skin but as quickly as Nick came into his mind, he forced the thought of his best friend out. Armie hadn’t done anything wrong, he _wouldn’t_ do anything wrong but he also couldn’t do much about the fact that his cock was hard and he was sure that his roommate had a thing for him (a fact that he would deny deny deny if asked if the feelings were reciprocated) but he was alone in the dark, alone under the blankets, alone in Timmy’s room and if there was ever a time for him to be self-indulgent --_

Armie’s head twisted to the side, his right cheek coming in contact with the cool cotton of Timmy’s pillow. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, his cock pulsing in his palm as the blend of _Timmy_ mixed with the scent that he recognized was his own shampoo. He’d known for a while that Timmy had been borrowing his wash, but he hadn’t expected it to be frequent enough that the warm, woodsy scent would have become part of the fabric of his bedding. The thought of Timmy crawling into bed, maybe in _his_ shirt, maybe in nothing at all, face down against his sheets, head on the pillow, breathing him in all night — 

“Fuck,” Armie stuttered as he arched his hips off the bed, his fist closing more firmly around his cock. He rubbed around the head and swiped his thumb over the precome to make the slide of his hand more effective. When he came, Armie sat up only to lift up himself from the mattress so he could pull his shirt completely off his shoulders. He scrunched the fabric into a ball and wiped the warm come from his belly and chest. In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have thrown the shirt on the ground -- where it’d eventually be forgotten and discovered by Timmy days later, but he was dazed from his orgasm, tired from the party, and ready to curl into Timmy’s mattress and have one of the best sleeps of his life.

\--

The first thing Timmy noticed, even before the raging headache that was already creeping up his spine and over his skull, was how comfortable the bed was. He kept his eyes closed but pulled his brows tightly together as he moved his hips from side to side, wondering why the sheets felt so smooth, soft - he definitely didn’t wash his bedding often enough for them to feel _this good_ Timmy rolled over to his side, the left half of his face rubbing against the pillow and he inhaled softly, realizing all at once with an electric jolt to his body that this was not his pillow, these were not his sheets, this was definitely _not_ his bed, and more importantly, he absolutely did not have pants on.

“Armie,” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering open. The events from the night before hit him like a brick as he laid still in Armie’s bed, his heart pumping with extra effort as he pulled the memories from the back of his mind; the beer, kissing nick, the dancing -- oh god, all the dancing. Timmy closed his eyes as he tried to remember the journey home. How did he even get here? Armie must have brought him home, but did he tuck him into bed? Where did his pants go? If he was in his bed… where was Armie?

Too many questions and not enough answers made Timmy’s head throb angrily and when he eventually sat up, he realized that he reeked of old beer and sweat, his stomach churning at the smell, the sour, regretful reminder. He placed a hand over his stomach and pressed gently with a grunt, he was bloated and nauseous from all the beer he’d consumed. He looked around, trying to find his phone, trying to gather his surroundings, but out of everything in Armie’s room, Timmy realized he was the only thing that was out of place.

Armie’s alarm clock told him that he needed to get out of bed if he wanted to shower before class but whatever had happened that had led him into Armie’s bed, horrifyingly embarrassing or not, Timmy wanted to enjoy his stay for a little while longer.

Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled himself out of the bed. He stared at the messy blanket and sheets, trying his best to ignore his half hard dick that was straining against his underwear, and decided the polite thing to do would be to make the bed. He didn’t do a very good job of it, considering he never bothered to make his own, and when Timmy looked over the poorly draped sheets and the almost straight but still slightly askew blanket on top, he felt his heart sink because it was as if there was no evidence that he’d ever been in there.

\--

NS: thanks for coming out tonight!  
NS: armie said you both made it home safe.  
NS: hope ur alive and the hangover isnt too bad. :p  
NS: good morning! how are you feeling?

Timmy frowned at his phone, his headache now a dull reminder that he was still trying to remember everything that had happened. Reading Nick’s texts filled him with a heavy sense of guilt because he was sure he’d said something he probably shouldn’t have, but then again, maybe that was just the resounding uncertainty of getting blackout drunk. Maybe he hadn’t done anything embarrassing at all…

He looked down at his jeans that were laying in a heap in the middle of the hallway and quickly realized that the likelihood he didn’t make an ass of himself was slim to none. Timmy looked out over the living room, assuming that Armie had either left for the day or maybe was asleep on the sofa, but he didn’t bother to check; he needed to get to class so he turned quickly and pushed open his door, nearly falling over when he realized that Armie hadn’t left for the day, and he wasn’t asleep on the couch. 

Armie was in his bed.

That was when he remembered. Sort of. The hazy, thick memories of the night before started to materialize and all he could do was stand there and stare at Armie. Horrified and amazed, his heart fluttering and his stomach dropping.

Timmy pulled his phone out while standing in his own doorway, his eyes flickering up to Armie after every few letters he typed.

TC: hey nick. im alive… barely, lol.  
TC: are you free after 1?

He sent a few heart emojis for good measure because even though he planned on calling everything off with Nick, Timmy didn’t want it ruin Nick’s day so early on by making him worry. He was stressed enough for the both of them.

Timmy took one last look at Armie before tip toeing into the room. He grabbed the first sweater his hand touched in his closet, the dark green one that said _Future_ , and a pair of jeans from somewhere on the floor. He hoped they were clean. He turned to sneak out but remembered he needed underwear. Timmy chewed his lip nervous, considered going commando, but decided to take the risk and walked as quietly as possible to his dresser to pull out a clean pair. Armie made a noise behind him and Timmy froze, his heart pounding as his looked over his shoulder, but he was still asleep. 

“Hm,” Timmy smiled, knowing that seeing Armie asleep in his bed was going to haunt every corner of his mind for the rest of his life, probably. He turned back around to close the dresser drawer and when the wood clicked shut, the sunflower Nick had given him rolled over. 

Before Timmy snuck back out of the room, he tossed the sunflower into the wastebasket by the door.

\--

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Timmy whined as he bounced his leg from under the table. Saoirse looked at him from over her shoulder, the straps of her tank top falling down to her elbow. He’d turn down her offer for outdoor yoga to help him ‘chill the fuck out’ before her party in a few hours. 

“What?” she asked, tilting her head down so her blue eyes peeked over the rim of her sunglasses. 

“God, I really am a fucking mess.” Timmy’s voice was breathless panic. He held up his phone. “Nick is coming to the party tonight.” He had tried desperately all day to set up a time to meet with Nick but they were completely out of sync. Timmy had class while Nick was free so they couldn’t get breakfast, then they both had work, and Nick asked to meet up afterward but Timmy had promised to help Saoirse pick up supplies for her house party tonight and when Nick had asked him where he was later in the day, Timmy had responded honestly, stupidly, and without any hesitation Nick had asked if it was okay if he dropped by the party.

“Give me your phone,” Saoirse waved her hand impatiently, snatching it from his hands with a huff. “Let’s see…” She pulled her sunglasses off and Timmy chewed on the skin of his thumbnail while he watched her scroll through his messages. He felt embarrassed and uneasy though he didn’t know why, it wasn’t like his texts with Nick were scandalous, but inherently he felt guilty as if he had done something very wrong.

“Oh, Timo,” She tsked, handing his phone back over with a sigh. “You’ve never done this before, have you.” It was definitely a statement, not a question. Timmy looked down at his feet, pushing the toes of his boots down into the pavement of her backyard patio, leaving light scuff marks against the gray concrete - she was right, of course, he’d never had to turn someone down like this, he’d never even broken up with someone. He was completely out of his element.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, T. I know you mean well but he’s not going to know what hit him when you break it off. The last text you sent him had no less than _six fucking swirly heart emojis._ ” 

“Those are my friendly heart emojis! I send them to my sister, too!” Timmy tried to defend, he just didn’t want it to seem obvious to Nick, but Saoirse just raised her eyebrow and he groaned, realization setting in.

“Oh fuck. He’s going to hate me,” Timmy leaned forward, crossing both arms over the table and burying his head into the dark space of his elbows. He whispered against his arms with a low groan, “Armie’s going to hate me, too.”

\--

“Armie!” Timmy’s voice was revealing, high pitched with excitement, almost unrecognizable to himself. Saoirse looked at him like he was crazy but he didn’t care. Nick had texted him half an hour ago and said he was on his way but when Armie had walked through Saoirse's front door, in blue jeans and a denim jacket, Timmy’s reaction was completely instinctual, the dread he’d been sitting with instantly washed away. He was on his feet and at Armie’s side in no time at all.

“Hey -- wow, you rally like a fucking champion. Must be nice,” Armie teased, nodding at the red solo cup filled with dark pink liquid in Timmy’s hand. Timmy blushed and held it up.

“It’s just fruit punch,” he almost blushed. Timmy was only twenty, sure, but hangovers always took him a day or two to recover from and he didn’t plan on getting drunk, especially knowing Nick was coming, so juice was his back up.

Armie snorted and ruffled his hair. Timmy grinned, biting down on his lip and was about to quip back at Armie when Nick suddenly rushed in behind him.

“Hey! Sorry. What did you do, fly over here, Armie?” Nick laughed then leaned back out the door and waved someone over. He looked back with an apologetic smile. “I hope it’s okay but Liz asked to tag along. And Armie too, obviously.”

“Liz?” Timmy looked directly at Armie when he spoke. He had assumed whatever had been going on between Armie and Liz was over since he hadn’t seen her at the apartment in a while. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen anyone around the apartment lately. 

Suddenly he deflated. “Yeah, I mean, Armie and his girlfriend are always welcome.”

Nick and Armie looked at each other with amusement and when Armie’s eyes connected with his, Timmy flushed and realized how he must have sounded. 

“Liz is not my girlfriend.” Armie’s tone left no room for questioning. Nick slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and ruffled his hair the same way Armie had done his only moments ago. Timmy sunk further. 

“Yeah, good luck to whoever tries to get this guy to commit.” 

—

“Wow, he seems like he’s taking it pretty well. Already found someone _almost_ as pretty as you to flirt with,” Saoirse hummed, her voice was an echo as she spoke into her cup, taking a sip of whatever weird concoction she’d put together for her party. Her mouth was stained blue. 

“Huh?” Timmy was squished against the arm of the couch, a couple next him grinding against each other, taking up most of the space on the love seat. Timmy liked coming to Saoirse’s to drink and hang out but once a month she threw these huge parties and he always felt so out of his element but she was his closest friend and also his boss, so he braved them regardless. 

Armie was lost among the crowd and Saoirse took it upon herself to sit down on Timmy’s lap, pointing over at Nick and Liz who were across the room, deep in conversation and clearly laughing at something hilarious. Liz had one hand curled in her long brown hair and the other on Nick’s forearm. 

“What do you mean?” Timmy asked hopefully. 

“They’re definitely feeling each other. Who is she? I didn’t invite her.”

“Nick invited her. That’s Liz. Apparently, she’s Nick’s best friend.” 

“They’d make a cute couple. Clearly there’s some repressed feelings there,” Saoirse shrugged nonchalantly. Timmy knew that he was supposed to feel jealous, maybe even a bit betrayed if she was right about the interaction happening between Nick and Liz, but instead he felt pure, unabashed relief. 

“I haven’t broken up with him yet,” Timmy confessed. Saoirse looked betrayed on his behalf. He smiled to ease her protective mom-eyes. “I don’t know how.” He looked up at her and she giggled into her cup, leaning in to kiss his cheek before she hoisted herself up. She leaned back in to whisper before walking away. 

“Well, better figure it out because he’s on his way over now.”

—

“That sweater looks amazing on you,” Nick complimented with a smile as they walked outside together. Nick tried to hold his hand on the way out but Timmy had awkwardly pushed his hands into his jeans and acted as if he didn’t notice. Nick looked like he knew better and Timmy suddenly wanted to throw up. 

“Hey — I’m sorry I sort of invited myself to the party. And Armie and Liz. We’ve just been trying to meet up all day... and I just figured this was better than not seeing you at all,” Nick sounded unsure which didn’t help Timmy’s confidence but he knew it was now or never. He nodded understandingly. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s okay. I like Armie,” he cleared his throat and added quickly, “and Liz! And you. It’s cool. Saoirse always has these big parties. I doubt she even knows half the people here.”

They both laughed softly, swaying on the spot, waiting for what Timmy was sure they both knew was inevitable. 

“I didn’t want to do this here but I also think it’s not fair if I put it off any longer…” Timmy’s entire face was distraught, his eyes wide and worried, his palms sweating. “And I know I made an ass out of myself last night so I’m sorry for that too…” 

Nick only nodded and the silence was too much so Timmy rambled. 

“You’re so nice, Nick, and I mean it, I do like you. I’ve had so much fun and you’re cute and sweet and, fuck. It’s just —” 

Then suddenly, Nick laughed. It wasn’t bitter or rude just mildly amused, maybe a little said, maybe even some endearment. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Timmy tenderly. 

“It’s okay, Tim. I get it. Sometimes it’s just not there, you know?” Nick pulled back and rubbed Timmy’s shoulders for a moment before stepping away. Timmy nodded gratefully, letting out a breath of air from his tight lungs. 

Nick turned to walk away but hesitated before turning around completely. Something in his brown eyes made Timmy panic and he looked down at his feet instantly. 

“Is it Armie?” Nick asked in a tone Timmy couldn’t make sense of. Timmy looked up, knowing his eyes were giving him away by his shocked expression, his bottom lip hanging open in surprise. Timmy didn't know why his instinct told him to say no, couldn’t understand why something in Nick eyes felt like he was hurt, maybe even angry, but regardless of what his gut was screaming at him the only motion Timmy’s body gave way to was a shrug. A pathetic, half limp, fucking shrug. 

Nick left with Liz ten minutes later. 

—

Timmy gave up on trying to find Armie, not that he’d been able to have a proper look around the packed house anyway because Saoirse had scooped him up and shoved him back behind a table, pressed against a wall and surrounded by way too many people playing a drinking game he hated. Timmy didn’t like _Never Have I Ever_ because he ‘had never’ done plenty, and didnt exactly want a table full of obnoxious drunk strangers to know about it. 

_Never have I ever….made out in a club._

Almost the entire group around the table drank from their respective alcoholic beverages. Timmy looked down at his cup, the blue concoction that Saoirse had been drinking earlier, that she’d shoved into his hands moments ago. He sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

_Never have I ever….stolen anything from a store._

Well, at least he could drink to that. Though, it probably didn’t count that it was an accident and when he realized he’d forgotten to pay for the pack of gum in his hand he turned around and went back in… but still. Technicality. He took a large swig of the disgustingly sweet booze in his cup. 

_Never have I ever...given road head._

Timmy sighed. 

_Never have I ever…kissed someone of the same sex._

He winced through another large gulp, teeth and lips already staining blue. The game went on and on and as Timmy felt his body warming to the booze, he also felt himself sinking down lower in defeat. His cup was miraculously almost empty but just as he was about to excuse himself for a refill, a deep, familiar voice joined the game and he smiled over at Armie from across the small table. 

“Never have I ever...had sex in my parent’s bedroom,” Armie smiled proudly, their eyes connecting. Timmy lifted his arm to set his drink down but Saoirse, who by now was drunker than he’d ever seen her before, looked over at him with wild blue eyes. She must have thought he was lifting his cup to drink from it and before Timmy could comprehend what was happening, she was pushing his hand down, making the cup spill over the table. 

“Put your cup down, Timmy. You told me when we first met that you’re a virgin,” she snorted with laughter, speaking far too loudly. She gasped when he looked horrified, slapping her hand over her mouth. 

“Oh shit! Timoooo, I’m _so sorry._ ” She was laughing uncomfortably, clearly realizing her fuck up, but Timmy’s eyes were on Armie who looked red faced and guilty. Timmy suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe and despite Saoirse tugging on him and begging him to stay, he took off in a rush, stumbling over his own feet and everyone else’s.


	6. part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii all of you lovely wonderful beautiful amazingly amazing humans that take time out of your day to read my jumble of words and feelings and emotions that i channel into the form of Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet. 
> 
> i won’t keep you from reading, but i just wanted to say you’re all great and i am in love with every single one of you.
> 
> like, totally fictional, obviously. right? yeah.

Armie felt his heart stutter in his chest when Timmy looked over at him, illuminated by only the dim street light hanging overhead; his cheeks were splotchy and pink, green eyes glinting with tears that threatened to spill over - it looked like some already had from the glaze of wetness that lined his top lip. Timmy swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and nose, sniffling while looking panicked that Armie was standing there, watching him. 

Armie hadn’t exactly _ran_ after Timmy once he stormed off from the party but that’s not to say he didn’t _try._ Saoirse had pulled him to the side before he could even make a move towards the door. She started to drunkenly ramble on about so many things, things he was sure Timmy would die if he heard, and his head was practically swirling to make sense of it but eventually he had managed to sneak away and that was when he found Timmy outside, leaning back against a brick wall, head buried in his hands. Armie cleared his throat to make his presence known and felt bad when Timmy jumped.

“Fuck,” Timmy laughed awkwardly, shaking his head and burying his face back into his hands to groan behind them. “How are you so fucking huge and still always manage to sneak up on me?”

Armie stepped a bit closer and shrugged. “You’re just never expecting me,” he smiled softly. Timmy dropped his hands to his side, his fingers picking at the embroidered roses stitched near the pocket of his jeans. Armie thought Timmy’s laugh sounded sad or maybe bitter and he frowned when he realized that Timmy must have taken what he said to heart.

“Yeah, no shit. You can say that again.” Timmy’s voice trailed off, so quiet that Armie thought maybe he’d misheard him. He wondered if he should be offended but decided this wasn’t about him.

“Come on, Timmy. Let’s go home.” 

Timmy looked over at him, his eyes narrowing like he wanted to protest but to Armie’s relief he just zipped up his black hoodie all the way to his chin, pulling the strings so the hood was tight around his face, making his fluffy curls cover his eyes almost completely, then he shoved his hands into his pockets and followed Armie to his truck. 

The walk to the car had been completely silent, just the sound of Timmy’s boots scruffing along the cement, dragging along the curb, occasionally kicking at the rubble. Armie had no idea what needed to be said to console Timmy, or to reassure him, or even if he had the right to do say anything at all. Everytime he got the courage to open his mouth, brave enough to start to say _something_ , Timmy would just hum softly next to him as if he was miles away, lost in his own thoughts, and Armie would retreat. He felt like a coward, an asshole, like a bad friend. A terrible roommate. 

Armie unlocked the doors of his truck _the good old fashioned way,_ as Timmy called it, and as soon as the doors of the truck were closed and they were both buckled in, Timmy spoke up. 

“It’s just -” Timmy seemed to fold in on himself, pulling his arms and knees in as close as possible to his stomach and chest. He moved to roll down the window for cool air, his curls swaying as he pumped the handle around and around. Armie wanted to smile when he thought about how lost Timmy had looked the first time he tried to roll down the window, his eyes searching secretly for a button, too embarrassed to ask where it was, until he realized he had to use a handle to crank it down. _Maybe a little too old fashioned,_ Armie had teased.

“It’s embarrassing, right? I don’t know,” Timmy chuckled nervously, his curls now whipping around from the wind, but Armie could tell by the way his mouth went sideways that his laughter was just self-preservation. Timmy sniffled and turned his head away and Armie forced himself to keep his eyes on the road because he had no idea how to handle anyone crying, but especially Timmy, and especially about this. Armie’s knuckles ached as he fought against the instinct to reach out to him, maybe place a comforting hand on his knee. Would that even be something that Timmy would want? Would it help?

“Being a virgin is not embarrassing,” Armie said seriously, turning his head to look over Timmy but he could barely make out the framing of Timmy’s face in the reflection of the window. He was still turned away from him, hunched shoulders, pulling at his sleeves. Armie’s desire to reach out even stronger now.

“Trust me. Sex is nothing special. I mean, it can be but… having it, not having it, you’re not really missing out on much.” 

Timmy scoffed and Armie frowned, confused. Timmy still wouldn’t look at him.

“I don’t know if I believe that, coming from you,” Timmy muttered, his voice cold, judgemental.

Then there was silence. Dead silence. The truck was pulled to a stop at a red light, so not even the sound of the gravel under the wheels or the whirring from Timmy’s rolled down window could fill the dead, fucking, silence. 

“Shit, Armie. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like —” Timmy _still_ didn’t look at him and Armie watched as Timmy rolled the window back up in a hurry and then proceeded to lean against the glass, thunking his head gently against it. The light turned green and Armie put his eyes back on the road. 

“I wasn’t trying to call you out on your sex life —”

“Stop. It’s fine. I understand why you said it,” Armie sighed. He knew his ever revolving door of late night companionship had been noticed by Timmy, long before they’d even officially met one another, but Armie hadn’t ever considered it consequential. Until now — now he felt sick with embarrassment, a little shame, all for the fact that he was the furthest thing from a virgin. Ironic. 

“I’m not saying sex doesn’t feel good, Timmy. It feels fucking great,” Armie laughed, slightly uncomfortable but mostly because talking about sex with Timmy made him, involuntarily, think about _sex with Timmy_ and this was not the time, nor the place for that. “I just mean that whatever circumstances or choices you’ve made to _not_ have sex, it’s not something you should feel bad about. I think it’s pretty cool.” It made his fucking head swirl, actually, and it did other things to his body as well, things that he was ashamed to admit, but he respected that Timmy had reservations and standards when it came to sex. Most people didn’t. Like himself. 

“What makes you think it was a choice?” Timmy asked, his voice unusually steady. “What if I’m only a virgin because no one has ever wanted to sleep with me?”

Armie almost slammed on the brakes and this time when he looked over at Timmy, he was looking right at him, his green eyes narrowed and hard. Armie scoffed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Timmy was fucking with him, he was sure of it. He’d seen him make that face before when they were high and joking around, giving each other shit, maybe low-key flirting but Armie wouldn’t admit to that… but now. Why the fuck would Timmy be fucking with him like this, _about this_?

“Don’t do that,” Armie breathed uneasily. “Don’t mess with me right now.”

“Maybe I’m serious, Armie.” Timmy shifted in his seat and Armie’s eyes bounced between the road and Timmy’s eyes, catching the faintest twitch of a smile when his gaze dropped to Timmy’s mouth. 

“Are you fishing for a compliment? Is that what you’re doing?” 

Timmy just shrugged and looked back out the window. Armie turned the wheel and drove around the corner to their block, his eyes half-heartedly searching for parking.

“If I was, what would you say?” Timmy asked, his forehead back on the window, his face a blurry reflection in the darkened glass again. Armie could tell his breathing had sped up, as did his own. 

“How would I compliment you, you mean?” 

Timmy hummed in response. Armie inhaled a sharp breath and knew that he’d regret saying this but even Timmy’s blurry reflection in the window was too hard to resist, his mouth curved downwards and his eyebrows bunched together, waiting, hoping…

“I’d say that there’s no way I would ever believe that you have _never_ met someone who wanted to fuck you.” Armie bit his tongue before he also added ‘ _trust me, I’d know. I’m one of them._ ’

It took a minute to find parking and once the truck started to settle after the ignition was turned off, Armie clicked off his seatbelt and turned towards Timmy. The silence they’d been in grew louder and after a second thought, Armie turned the ignition key half way so that the battery clicked back on and then turned the knob on his dash so the radio filled the quiet air between them. A song was ending and it felt like they were both waiting on edge as another song started up.

Armie’s mouth curved into a smile when he realized what song it was and Timmy chuckled. 

“Good song,” Armie nodded, tilting his head in question at Timmy. Timmy looked at the radio for a second then over at him and chuckled once more, this time his laughter rumbled Armie’s belly in just the right way. 

“It’s on my ‘Armie Recommended’ playlist,” Timmy admitted, his chin starting to move as he bounced his head, his curls, as always, moving just as incessantly as he did. The kid never stopped moving, ever. It drove him fucking crazy. Armie wanted to ask what else was on the playlist but suddenly Timmy started to hum the words to _Lovefool_ by the Cardigans and Armie felt his chest flutter, unable to do anything except smile and join in. 

They only made it halfway through the second verse. 

“I don’t have feelings for Nick,” Timmy blurted out suddenly. Armie froze, his mouth still hanging open from their ridiculous but soft singalong. Timmy breathed out, like a heavy sigh of relief. Armie sat back against the driver’s seat, his eyes searching for Timmy’s and finding them easily in the dark. Timmy looked relieved but Armie felt anything but. 

“Oh. Does Nick know that?” 

Timmy shook his head but Armie couldn’t tell if it was because he was confirming that Nick didn’t know or if he was just shaking off his question. Timmy looked like he had more to say, so Armie tightened his jaw and let him speak, his hands gripping the steering wheel. 

“I have feelings for _you_ , Armie.” Timmy pulled his hood off and unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached over and turned the radio down just as _Lovefool_ was coming to an end. Had the last part of the song always been so repetitive? _Love me, love me, say that you love me_ felt like a chant from one of his worst nightmares now. Armie was stunned to silence, and also afraid to steal Timmy’s moment away. He was also hurt, maybe angry, on behalf of Nick. Above all else though, he was fucking scared that he’d tell Timmy that he felt the same. 

“Sometimes I think that you do too...but,” Timmy huffed a gentle laugh through his nose, running a hand through his hair and Armie lost the fight against his impulse to keep looking away. He needed to see Timmy saying these things to him. 

“But I always read these things the wrong. Especially when people are nice to me, you know? You’re always nice to me and I kinda get caught up in the attention and mistake it for affection and I — fuck. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” 

“Timmy…” Armie flexed his fingers to move but Timmy shifted out of his seat and before he could protest or say anything at all, Timmy had climbed into his lap, cursing when his knee hit the driver’s side door, his ankle getting caught on the stick shift but eventually he managed to straddle Armie successfully. 

Armie hated himself but he couldn’t move. He looked up at the waterfall of brown curls that haloed Timmy’s face, making it seem rounder and softer than usual, younger even, as opposed to the sharp and angled edges like he was used to. Armie was sure he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. 

“Shut up,” Timmy demanded, but his voice was sweet and tender. He smiled and added, “Please,” for good measure. Armie nodded. 

“I just want to do this while I have the balls to do it. You don’t have to say anything right now, okay? Just… just, as long as you _know_.” 

Armie was sure there was nothing he could do to prepare himself for Timmy overtaking him, demanding his attention, showcasing his own affection in such a unabashed, bold display. Armie swallowed his apprehension and waited, assuming that there was more that needed to be said… but then Timmy was suddenly looking at him like he’d never looked at him before, as if seeing him for the first time and all at once the silence in the truck was the loudest thing Armie had ever heard. He let his mind play an echo of _Lovefool_ just to keep his heart from giving out. 

The sudden warmth of Timmy’s mouth on his made him gasp. The only time that Armie had allowed himself to imagine what it’d be like to kiss Timmy was when his cock was hard, gripped tightly in the palm of his hand, his eyes squeezed shut in a heated desperation to get off, but all of those fantasies were as fevered as the hand stroking himself. Armie had no idea that Timmy’s mouth would be so _soft_ but now as Timmy’s lips enclosed around his bottom one, tugging at the skin gently, Armie thought to himself _how could they be anything but?_

Minutes went by, or maybe just seconds. Maybe it was his entire life compressed down into the best thirty seconds he’d ever experienced. He hated to pull away, wanted to kick himself when his lungs told him that he needed to pull back for oxygen, when his brain tried to reason with him that what he was doing was wrong. Nick would never forgive him for this, and he shouldn’t, but then Timmy was sliding his warm, smooth tongue between his lips and Armie just wanted to taste him, even for just a second. Then they were making out, full on and greedy. Armie had his arms wrapped around Timmy’s small waist, squeezing him forward so their bodies were as close as possible in their compromising position. Timmy had one hand gripped into his shoulder while the other cupped his face, his thumb stroking against the scruff of his cheek. Armie remembered a week ago when Timmy had suggested he grow his beard out. So he did. 

But his lungs insisted he needed to breathe and reluctantly Armie tilted his head back so it fell against the headrest, his chest heaving from their kiss. He kept his eyes closed because he didn’t trust himself to look at Timmy and not pull him back in for more. 

“I need a second, Timmy. I can’t think straight right now, with you all - _fuck,_ ” Armie muttered, unconvincing even to himself. Timmy made a soft sound above him and when Armie opened his eyes, he was relieved to see that Timmy was smiling, cheeks as red as his lips.

“I need to write a paper for my music theory class,” Timmy sighed casually, as if they weren’t half hard, as if he wasn’t straddling Armie in his own fucking car, as if they hadn’t just had each other’s tongues down the back of their respective throats. “And I have to wake up for my radio block in a few hours.”

“Okay. Uh, yeah. So,” Armie fumbled over every word that his mouth tried to form. His brain was fried, so were his nerves. Timmy chuckled, shaking his head, blushing and Armie really needed him to stop moving because he could feel his ass shifting over his crotch every time he laughed and if Timmy was going to be so casual about this then he needed to do the same, but he couldn’t really walk up to their apartment with a raging hard on. Timmy trailed his thumb over Armie’s jaw, down the bridge of his nose and over one of his eyebrows, his eyes following the movement as if he needed to remember the lines, as if he might need them later. 

“So,” Timmy repeated. He smiled once more before unlocking the car door and opening it with a grunt. _Old car doors are too fucking heavy_ , Timmy had told Armie once when he’d given him a ride to class. Timmy stood just outside the frame of the driver’s side door and Armie continued to just sit there, trying to decide if inaction was any less terrible that action. He was such a bad fucking friend.

“You don’t need to say anything, Armie, okay? Just --” Timmy chewed on his bottom lip and Armie mirrored the motion, already trying to remember what it felt like to have it between his teeth. “--just, thank you. For indulging me.”

Armie watched Timmy cross the street, carefully looking both ways before looking over his shoulder and grinning at him, teeth and gums on full display. He watched him walk into their building, waiting for a few minutes in case Timmy had decided to take the stairs, which he normally did because their elevator was _old and creepy and going to kill them one day_ , apparently. Armie closed his eyes and imagined Timmy walking into their kitchen to grab a drink, maybe some leftovers from the fridge, before heading into his room to put on records and exist in the space that Armie felt like he had no right to be part of.

When Armie thought it’d be safe to head up to the apartment, no chance of an accidental encounter with his roommate, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he smiled, nervous and confused, when he saw it was a text from Timmy.

TC: left my keys at saoirse's  
TC: im locked out  
TC: :)

Armie laughed, endearment spilling from every breath.

AH: Yeah, right.


	7. part seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> missed you! love you!  
> im behind on comments. my apologies.   
> this one took a while.   
> it’s poorly beta’d by yours truly, so forgive my sleepy eyes. all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> all fiction. 
> 
> xoxo

Timmy closed his eyes, his head lolling against the window of the bus he’d decided to take to home from the radio station. He had work in a few hours but there was something he needed to do before his shift. 

He turned over the mixtape that he’d made for Armie at the station, his fingertips smoothing over the clear tape that he’d laid over _side A_ before flipping it over and doing the same to _side B_. Some of the sharpie hadn’t yet dried from writing Armie’s name and it smeared against his thumb. Timmy sighed. 

“This is so dumb,” he muttered to himself, feeling more pathetic than he ever had in his life. Did anyone actually make mixtapes anymore? Would Armie just laugh at him? He could have complied a Spotify playlist, even Apple Music, and just texted a link… but this felt way more intimate, and also, somehow, less embarrassing than burning a CD. 

Last night after they had kissed, Timmy had been overwhelmed, to say the least. He hadn’t slept at all, could barely even remember getting dressed and going to his radio block. All the songs that morning had been Armie-centric, but these days, when _weren’t they?_

Timmy closed his eyes, thinking back to the kiss, his fingers tracing over his bottom lip as he recalled the sensation of Armie’s soft mouth against his own. 

Armie had kissed him back, everything else was irrelevant — for now. 

There was the fear of rejection bubbling in the depths of his stomach, but it was a worry he could temporarily suffocate by thinking about Armie underneath him in the car, because right now, that moment was all he needed. He knew they would have to talk eventually, but for now he had curated the perfect little bubble of optimism and that was where he was going to hide until the last possible moment.

The bus drove over a bump and Timmy huffed when his forehead bounced against the window. He carefully pushed the mixtape into the front pocket of his backpack, already anxious with anticipation to slide it under Armie’s bedroom door. 

The bus driver announced the next stop and Timmy closed his eyes again, still a few blocks away from the apartment, and thought back once again to the night after the kiss. 

Last night. 

_“Oh shit, holy shit, holy shiiiit,” Timmy had squealed into the palm of his hands, which hadn’t stopped shaking since he had closed his bedroom door only moments ago, leaving Armie behind in the living room with only a soft ‘goodnight’ in parting._

_“Oh my god,” Timmy paced frantically around his room, his limbs uncertain of which direction they wanted to take him. His heart was pounding so violently in his chest, the adrenaline rush of kissing Armie having made him dizzy, his muscles spasming as he tried to shake off everything that had just happened. He fucking did it, he made a move. Holy fuck._

_He. Kissed. Armie._

_Timmy grabbed his phone, shakily sending out a text to Saoirse, full of typos and excitement. He knew she was probably too drunk to reply but he needed to tell someone, needed to see the words spelled out, visible in physical form, just in case he had made it all up — Armie. He had kissed Armie._

_And Armie kissed him back._

_“Fuck!” Timmy gasped with sheer happiness seeping from his core, his stomach feeling like it had become an atrium of butterflies._

When the bus eventually pulled up to his stop, Timmy practically ran up to the apartment. He took a deep, calming breath before he unlocked the door, trying to keep quiet but his heart was beating out of his chest, breath stuttering with anticipation that Armie might already be awake but the apartment was silent, warm. Timmy didn’t have to listen too closely to know that Armie was asleep in his own room, he could sense it, feel it. He wondered if Armie’s bed would smell like him, which in turn led him to remembering that his bed definitely smelled like Armie. He had spent the whole night inhaling his pillow. 

Timmy smiled to himself, thinking about Armie asleep in his bed just yesterday, under _his_ covers, sleeping soundly against _his_ pillow — the memory was so vivid that when Timmy pushed his own bedroom door open, he half expected to see Armie on top of his mattress once more. If only. 

Timmy tried to nap before his shift at work but all he managed was to toss and turn, his ears prickling every time he heard a sound that he thought might be Armie starting his day. The plan was to slide the cassette tape under his door before he left for work but it was easy to get carried away with fantasies and optimistic scenarios where he would bravely hand the tape over with flourish and heartfelt words, confessing his feelings, wherein Armie would then swoop him up into his arms and — yeah. No time to think about _that._

Timmy’s alarm went off a while later and he pulled his shoes back on, ultimately deciding on the ‘slide the cassette under the door and then run like a coward’ method to delivery. 

He had ran out of the apartment almost as quickly as he’d run up to it. 

When timmy finally pulled up to work on his bike, he let out a long, silent breath. He knew he was going to be completely useless today because all he would be able to think about was whether or not Armie found the tape. Would he listen to it right away? Would he just throw it away? Or maybe he’d come to Timmy’s work and confront him about it. 

Failing miserably at suppressing the many distracting possibilities, Timmy still managed to turn the key to open the record store doors but right as the metal clicked, he felt a body slam against his own, surging him forward, and long arms wrapped around his waist as he stumbled into the glass doors. 

“What the fuck!” Timmy yelped, his heart booming from his chest. Was he being mugged? He started to look around in a panic but luckily he saw Saoirse’s bubblegum hair in the reflection of the windows or else he might have — well, probably just ran for dear life but still. 

“Saoirse!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” her voice was muffled against his back, her arms squeezing him so tight he couldn’t get a decent breath. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.”

Timmy grunted as he tried to twist his body around, tripping over his backpack that he’d set on the ground. Saoirse had a death grip on him and she absolutely refused to let go, even as he wiggled around for freedom. After a struggle, he managed to turn his torso so that now she was face planted against his chest, hands locked tight around his back, still muttering apologies against him. 

“Sorry for what?” he asked, hugging her back because he knew if he didn’t then he’d be held in her vice-like grip until he did. 

“Uh,” she pulled back, looking at him with high raised eyebrows. She clicked her tongue, shuffling. “You know what. Or was it only a dream that I had drunkenly announced to my entire party that you’re a virgin?”

Timmy hadn’t necessarily forgotten, it just didn’t matter anymore. He smoothed his face into a smile and gave her a genuine hug this time. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I overreacted.” Saoirse looked at him funny, stepping back and raising her eyebrows as she tilted her head up and down, as if trying to figure out why he seemed different. He chuckled nervously under her stare. 

“Did you read the text I sent you last night?”

“No, I dropped my phone in the hangover bath I took this morning before I could even open my messages. It’s sitting in a bowl of rice at home. Water resistant my ass,” Saoirse sighed, pushing her sunglasses up the ridge of her nose. Her hair was pulled into a lopsided messy bun, her sweatshirt musty and probably not even her own, considering how huge it was, and she definitely still smelled like stale booze. 

“Hangover bath?” Timmy asked curiously, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. She lowered her chin and looked at him with narrowed eyes from over the rim of her sunglasses. 

“Yeah, _hangover bath_. I take one every morning after a night of heavy drinking to cure my hangovers. It involves lots of heat, steam, and oils. It expels the toxins and —oh nevermind. Fuck off,” she laughed, giving him a shove once he had started smiling at her half way through her explanation, biting down on his lower lip to keep from audibly laughing. Failing miserably. 

“Whaaaat!” Timmy snorted, shrugging both of his shoulders. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You made that dumb face that shouldn’t be as cute as it is,” she huffed, waving a pointed finger but Timmy could tell she was just messing with him. She sighed and looked him over before her face dropped again, her tone changing as she pulled off her sunglasses.

“Seriously, Timmy. I am sorry. I was such a drunk, loud mouth and I feel like a dickhead.”

Timmy smiled and reached back out to pull her into another hug, genuine, tight. He rested his head against her shoulder with a soft smile. She hugged him back with a squeeze.

“Thank you. It was sort of...a good thing though. Armie and I had a talk when he drove me home and…” Timmy pulled back as he explained, his cheeks flushed and a tight, withheld smile pinching the corners of his mouth. He didn’t want to seem _too obvious_ but he knew he was, and the excitement, he could barely fucking contain himself. Saoirse's eyes grew wide and she started to drag him inside.

“Oh my god, tell me everything,” she yanked him by the sleeve through the door. He tugged back only so he could grab his backpack and then let himself be manhandled by her grip. “I swear to god if you didn’t suck his dick I’m going to fucking fire you.” Timmy boomed with laughter as the doors closed behind them.

\--

Armie stared at the cassette tape, his eyes slowly sweeping over Timmy’s messy handwriting, straining in the dim light of his truck. He smiled, soft and sad, dragging his finger over the slightly smudged ink. 

_to Armie, from Timmy_

Armie knew the moment he played the tape, he’d be fucked. He already was, truth be told, but right now, sitting in the silence and dark of his vehicle, it was easy to pretend he had some semblance of self-control over the situation. Over his feelings. Over how badly he wanted Timmy. 

He cleared his throat when he realized his heart had doubled it’s pacing, as if struggling in a race between his desire and better judgement. He’d found the tape that morning, probably not too long after Timmy had left it but luckily there was nothing in his room that he could listen to it with. So instead he waited, the tape on his mind all afternoon, into the early evening, when he had finally caved and rushed down to his truck to maybe, just maybe, listen to it. He still hadn’t decided.

Armie could feel his willpower fleeting with every second he held onto the cassette, his mind a swirl of possibilities as he thought about what songs might be on it, what lyrics Timmy must have carefully selected to confess the things that Armie had been denying he’d wanted to hear for weeks now. Maybe even longer; maybe from the moment he heard Timmy’s voice, or even earlier than that, when he was just smooth skin curled on the couch and dark curls draped around his angled chin. 

Armie closed his eyes and his mind drifted to the early days— the days he thought had been so easy, before he’d really _met_ Timmy, before they’d gotten to know each other, when they were still strangers. 

Though, in some ways, Armie felt like they had always known each other. 

There had been moments back then, ones which at the time had felt unimportant, insignificant, but looking back now, maybe he should have been paying more attention. 

_  
Armie has cracked open a beer and gulped half of it down before he’d even closed the refrigerator door. He let out a long, satisfied hiss as the carbonation flooded his chest and nose, relief settling in his belly with the bubbles as the alcohol started to soothe him. He pushed the door closed and started to turn when his eyes caught the new colorful addition to the fridge — a small magnetic whiteboard and on it, a comic panel in a multitude of colors that looked like it’d taken way too much effort. He had no idea Timmy could draw._

_“Cute, an artist,” he pontificated as a smirk spread across his mouth. He took a moment to read the comic and almost spit his beer out when he got to the dick-joke at the end. The kid was funny._

_That night Armie had drank silently on the couch, watching mindless reality TV until he gathered enough energy to do his laundry. Normally, he didn’t like spending nights alone but work had been long that day and the thought of dealing with an awkward _goodbye, that was fun, now get out_ conversation in the morning was already exhausting. _

_While he was in his room gathering his dirty clothes, Armie stopped for a minute to listen through the bedroom wall. Timmy always had music playing and for the most part, he was impressed with the kid’s eclectic taste. He knew the Timmy was young, but his variety of music was vast. It was impressive._

_Every now and then Armie would make out a melody that he liked but couldn’t recognize so he’d shoot Timmy a text and ask ‘what’s this one?’ and Timmy would respond right away, sometimes even with a follow up recommendation. Armie would eventually start finding random records under his door._

_“Mmm,” Armie smiled to himself, wondering what his roommate actually got up to in his bedroom most nights. It was odd, the fact that they hadn’t run into each other yet, but Armie didn’t dwell on it. He kind of liked the fact that he was living with an almost stranger. Only, it didn’t feel like they were strangers, even then._

_When Armie made his way down the hall to the washer, he opened it to find Timmy’s still damp clothes sitting in the drum. It wasn’t the first time it had happened in their short time of living together, and Armie vaguely wondered why he didn’t find it as annoying as he probably should. Mostly it felt like he was in on a secret, an intimate one._

_It was strange to touch someone else’s clothes without them knowing, and when he moved to sort through them, hanging the few he thought might need to be air dried, the cold fabric against his skin served as a reminder that Timmy might actually be pissed about him doing this._

_Armie did it anyway. He sorted the clothes, dried the rest in the dryer, and even folded them all while simultaneously taking care of his own load. He knew it was weird. It had to be, right? He’d just folded his twenty year old roommate’s purple boxer briefs as if he had any right to._

_It took awhile for Armie to decide what to do with Timmy’s laundry. Eventually he decided to just leave it on the coffee table in the living room. A normal, general area. Nothing weird. Only, when he woke up the next day the pile was still there. Armie had waited around for a while, talking himself in circles as he tried to reason with himself why he shouldn’t go into Timmy’s room but, like every fucking thing in his life apparently, he had no self control and did it anyway._

_“Just get in, get out. Don’t even look around.”_

_He looked around. At everything, but so quickly it was as if he couldn’t comprehend much more than the colors and the whirl of messiness that was Timmy. Somewhere between his brilliant fucking idea to do Timmy’s laundry in the first place and twelve hours after that, bring it into his room, Armie had folded his old Cardigan’s band tee from college and shoved it into the pile. That was weird too, right?_

_Even weirder was when he grabbed a pen from the floor of Timmy’s room and scribbled on the back of a receipt from his wallet— ‘seems like your style.’_

Thinking back on early memories, Armie caved and pushed the cassette into the tape deck. 

He didn’t even make it to the third song of the mixtape before he started driving down to the brewery. Whatever this feeling was, whatever this draw to Timmy he had, the least he could do was try to drink it away.

-

“Dude, _dude_ , wait.” Armie didn’t register Nick’s voice until he heard his name. 

“Armie, what the fuck are you doing?” Nick’s voice was suddenly the first clear thing Armie had heard that night. His blue eyes dropped down to ponder the firm hand that was gripping his wrist, staring lazily as long fingers kept him temporarily pinned to the bar top. He forced his eyes to trail up the hair of Nick’s arm, catching his shirt sleeve that was bunched at the elbow, then up and over his shoulder, all the way to his deep brown eyes. Armie was sure, even in his own drunken stupor, that Nick looked pissed. 

“I’m taking this very nice lady home, Nick. What do you think I’m doing?” Armie nodded in the wrong direction of the curly haired brunette he’d been grossly flirting with all night. Nick shot him a look that Armie’s fuzzy brain didn’t care to digest. 

“Taking her home? To your apartment. ” Nick's voice was doing _that thing_ that Armie hated, where he was obviously trying to make a point but expected him to figure it out himself so that he didn’t have to say it. Armie didn’t have time for this. 

“Uh, yeah, Nick. _To my apartment_ ,” Armie repeated slowly, his mouth hanging open with sarcasm and intoxication. 

“To your apartment — the one you share with Timmy,” Nick gripped his wrist tighter. Armie scowled. 

“Yes. The apartment that I share with Timmy.” Armie yanked his hand back. “What’s your fucking deal?”

“God, you’re such an idiot.”

Armie didn’t bother to ask Nick to explain himself, he didn’t care. He stood up quickly, too quickly, sloppily, and the stool he was on toppled over. Armie felt the drunk realization take over, hot and bitter acceptance; he’s fucked. Not literally, not anymore. The girl he was talking to had pulled a face, but he didn’t bother to apologize. Nick ended up telling her that Armie was out of commission for the night and then took him back to his apartment instead. 

-

“Here man, drink this,” Nick ordered as he handed over a steaming mug of black coffee the next morning. Armie grunted as thanks and promptly took a swig, appreciating the scalding liquid as it filled his mouth and burned his throat on the way down. His eyes watered and he hissed once he swallowed the liquid down, but went in for more a moment later.

“I feel like shit,” Armie laughed, setting the coffee down so he could cradle his head against the palms of his hands. Despite the hangover, he had a vivid recollection of the night before and with each memory of the many strong, heavy beers that he had ingested, his stomach churned with guilt and regret. 

Armie looked over at Nick, who was drinking his own mug of coffee, sip by sip, blowing on the liquid with patience and ease, unlike him who had just tossed his back without regard to the consequences. Armie could tell that Nick had something on his mind; they’d known each other long enough now that it was obvious he needed to get something off his chest and was just waiting for Armie to give him an opening. Armie didn’t want to, afraid of whatever it was, worried that he’d done something terribly wrong without realizing, the constant guilt of his past mistakes always making him anticipate that his next fuck up was just around the corner.

“Thanks for last night,” Armie started, using his knees to rest his elbows on while he fidgeted awkwardly with the edge of the blanket Nick must have thrown over him last night. “I was really fucked up and definitely would have regretted taking that girl home. Probably would have made an ass out of myself in the bedroom.” 

Nick scoffed, shaking his head. Armie felt called out just by the way Nick’s eyes scoured him from head to toe. 

“Yeah? Is that what you were worried about, not being able to get your dick hard?” Nick leaned forward, set his coffee mug down and laced his fingers together. Armie felt like he was about to be scolded. He sat back against the couch in anticipation. Nick had his opening. Armie was as ready as he could be. 

“What should I have been worried about?” He offered Nick assistance in getting to the point.

Nick rarely rolled his eyes but he did now. Hard. 

“Timmy.”

“What?” Armie was only half confused, and the way his voice hitched at the end of his _what_ made it obvious. Did Nick know about the kiss already? Did Timmy tell him? 

“Don’t do that, okay? It’s… it’s not necessary.”

“Nick, I don’t know what you think —”

“Just tell me one thing, please. I don’t care about anything except — did anything happen, you know, _physically_ between you two?” Nick looked down at his hands and then back over at Armie. “Before we broke up, I mean.”

“I don’t — wait,” Armie had been ready to confess to everything but his slow moving brain processed the rest of Nick’s words. “You broke up? When?”

“During Saoirse’s party. That’s why I left early.” 

Armie frowned, his face pulling tight as he tried to remember back to that night. He had been outback making friends with whoever was smoking weed when Nick had texted him, saying he had left the party. Nick hadn’t given an explanation but Armie had checked in, asked him if he was good, and Nick had sent a few thumbs up emojis. He thought nothing else about it. 

“I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t know.” Armie’s heart had started to pump hard against his ribs. He’d been tearing himself apart for the last day and a half because of the kiss with Timmy. He was sure that he had fucked everything up, was positive that he had went behind Nick’s back — again. 

“Are you alright?” Armie realized he was being too quiet, too selfish. He sat up straight in an attempt to give Nick his full attention but Timmy’s mouth was already nagging insistently at the back of his brain. 

“Yeah, I’m good. We didn’t really have _that thing_ , you know? I get why he called it off. There was something missing.” Nick sounded genuine and Armie watched him closely for a few moments to make sure he meant it. Nick had never been a liar though, even when it came to his most embarrassing or shameful thoughts and feelings. 

“Oh.” Armie fell back gently into the back of the couch. “That’s good man. I mean, I’m sorry it didn’t work out but —”

“You didn’t answer my question, Armie.” Nick didn’t l sound accusational, maybe a bit nervous, if anything. Armie would have been offended if he didn’t think it was such a fair question. 

He shook his head and Nick’s shoulders visibly relax. Armie feels an ache of hurt by the obvious relief. 

“You know that Timmy is into you though, right?” 

Armie looked up with surprise and Nick laughed, shaking his head with a soft, endeared sigh. 

“You really are a fucking idiot,” Nick says with all the love in the world. 

-

Armie felt his hands shaking by the time he pulled into a parking lot outside his apartment building. He’d spent the entire night with Nick, talking things out, explaining what had happened between him and Timmy, including the kiss. Armie explained to Nick how he had accepted that his feelings weren’t relevant, and that he had no intention of pursuing Timmy but Nick wasn’t having it. No matter what reason Armie gave him about why he shouldn’t date Timmy; he’s too young, it’s bad news dating a roommate, he’d just fuck it up — Nick had a counter. Mostly it was just _you’re a fucking idiot_ but by the time he told him about the mixtape, Nick practically booted him out of his apartment. 

Nick had told him that whatever it was that was missing between him and Timmy, it was clear how it much of it was between Timmy and Armie. That was when Armie started to realize that maybe things had been obvious from the start. To everyone but him, apparently. 

Armie listened to the cassette on the drive home and sat in his car until the last song started. He didn’t even make it to the second verse of _Dreamlover_ before he was out of his car and running up the stairs to the apartment. He needed to get to Timmy. 

-

Something, _someone_ , pulled back the comforter that Timmy was buried under, a small sound of sleepy protest hitching from his chest because all the warmth he’d sustained from his shower was suddenly being let out. He wasn’t quite asleep, but lingering somewhere between dreaming and reality, a smile hazily plastered on his face as he thought about Armie. Timmy shifted, thinking he must have dreamed that Armie had tugged his blanket off of his shoulder, folded it down, and started to climb into his bed. 

“Hmmph” Timmy’s voice whimpered, soft and sleepy. He started to turn his body but before he could twist, Armie had slid completely into his bed, curving his long body around his own, spooning him with no room to spare, their bodies perfectly flush against one another.

“Tim…” Armie’s breath was hot against the back of Timmy’s neck, which was damp from the droplets of water that were still clinging to the tips of his curls. A chill ran down his spine and he felt his body come alive with rush of adrenaline that made his eyelids flutter open in an excited panic. 

“Armie? What are you doing—”

“Is this okay?” Armie asked against Timmy’s ear, his warm breath flowing hot against his neck, making his skin ripple with goosebumps. Timmy swallowed nervously, his eyes closed tight as he became overwhelmed by sensation — Armie’s stuttered breathing flowing over him, the palm of his large hand now planted flat against the softest part of his lower belly. Armie curled his fingers and slid his hand underneath the hem of his cherry sweater until he felt warmth spread across his belly button, down to his cock, over his entire body. 

“Y-yeah,” Timmy mumbled as his lungs tightened. He squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to imagine what expression might be on Armie’s face. What was he doing in his bed? Touching him? Holding him? And now, trailing soft, gentle kisses along the edge of his ear. 

“Armie…”

“I listened to your mixtape,” Armie whispered, as if they might be overheard, as if they weren’t the only two people in the apartment, in the entire world, as far as Timmy was concerned. 

Timmy didn’t want further explanation. 

“Is this what you want?” Armie asked in a hushed growl against his ear. Timmy sighed his assent, arching his back so that he could feel all of Armie against his backside. “Does this make you happy?”

“You make me happy.”

Armie made a sound of content that sent electricity down Timmy’s spine. He felt dizzy, happy, warm. What was the proper reaction for getting exactly what you wanted? Timmy still wasn’t sure if he asleep or awake but he no longer cared; if all of this ended by the time he opened his eyes again, then he’d be satisfied knowing that at least Armie was his for one night. 

Timmy shivered when he felt fingers achingly tease to dip below the waistband of his boxers, a soft hum of curiosity vibrating from Armie’s chest. He could feel the curve of Armie’s cock against his ass and along with it, the fire that it brought to life in every nerve-ending of his body.

“Is this okay?” Armie asked again, spreading his fingers through his pubic hair, but not quite far enough down to reach his cock. 

“Mm yeah,” Timmy breathed out in one quick exhale. He nodded his head slightly, licking his lips as he felt his cock pulse between his legs. _It was now or never,_ he thought to himself and with a shift of his hips, he pushed his ass back against Armie’s front, gasping when he realized he was just as hard as he was. 

“Touch me, Armie, please,” Timmy whimpered, a soft plea of desperation. He placed his hand over the top of Armie’s and pushed downward, sliding their intertwined fingers completely under the band of his underwear and guided Armie’s palm directly over his throbbing cock.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” they both sighed in unison, which triggered a soft, awkward laugh from each of them. It was surreal, to finally be touched by someone that at one point Timmy had thought he’d never get to even look at. 

But none of that mattered now. 

Timmy didn’t want it to end, but he also wanted, and needed, so much more. 

“Does that feel good?” Armie asked, slowly stroking, purposefully soft because there was no lubrication, maybe a little too gentle because all of this was new for them, but Timmy didn’t care. Just the thought of Armie touching his cock was enough to make him come. Armie could go as fast or slow as he wanted, lube or no lube. 

Timmy’s entire body tensed when Armie swiped his thumb over the tip, dragging precome underneath the digit to swirl it around. He felt warm, thick lips press into the sensitive skin just behind his ear and without meaning to he thrust his hips forward, his cock suddenly harder, needier. 

“Armie, please, that feels so good,” Timmy whispered now, just like Armie had been and his voice was just as thick, straining with nerves, disbelief, pure pleasure. “Don’t stop.”

Armie continued to explore his neck, pressing small, wet kisses down the back until he leaned over, meeting Timmy’s mouth halfway in a slow, open mouthed kiss. Timmy let Armie take the lead, partly because he wanted to feel wanted, to know that Armie was here exactly for this, _for him_ , but also because the strong, firm hand around his cock was now moving faster, with obvious determination.

Timmy became a mess, leaking, panting, he thought he could cry from sensation overload. 

It was all over when Armie stopped to spit into his own hand, mixing his saliva with the precome still dripping from his cock. Timmy writhed, his hips grinding back so that he could rub his ass against Armie’s cock only to stutter forward so he could fuck into Armie’s grip. He thought of reaching back to take Armie’s cock into his hand as well, but Timmy doubted his ability to multitask that expertly when he was already unsure of how he was managing to breathe and move his hips as it was. 

The room was quiet, just the soft swish of blanket and sheets from their movements, and Armie’s heady breathing that mingled with the melody of whimpers and sighs Timmy was failing to hold back, try as he might. 

The sound of Armie’s saliva slicked hand around his cock was obscene, but it just made Timmy fuck into his grip even more frantically. His cheeks were red with lust and embarrassment, but his lips smiled, open-mouthed and amazed by how good it felt. 

“I’m going to c-come,” Timmy warned but he was a second too late, his balls having already tightened and his belly coiled, sending his load spurting against Armie’s hand. “Armie, oh, god, _Armie._ ”

Armie stroked Timmy until his thighs were shaking, the sensitivity too much. He pressed a languid, deep kiss against the side of his mouth before he pulled his hand out from under Timmy’s boxers and rolled over onto his back. They laid in silence, catching their breath. Timmy there his elbow over his eyes until blood started to reach his brain once again. He felt the bed shift when Armie sat up and Timmy moved to follow. 

Their eyes met for the first time since their kiss in the truck. 

“Hey you,” Armie grinned, holding his come covered hand awkwardly against his knee. Timmy licked over his lips, certain that he still hadn’t stopped blushing, positive that his hair was standing upright on one side from writhing against the pillow, but it didn’t matter. He was a mess, as always. But maybe Armie liked that. 

“Hi,” Timmy mumbled back with a grin. They watched each other for a moment longer before Armie looked down at his hand, which was cupped upward, glistening with his come. 

“I’m just going to go clean up, I’ll be right back.”

Timmy jumped up from the bed, desperate to keep Armie in the room with him. “Wait, no. Hold on,” he chewed his lip, looking around the floor for something dirty that Armie could use to clean up. He dropped down to a knee and spotted a shirt wedged under the bed. 

“Here,” Timmy offered as he sweeped it from the ground and held it out to Armie. It wasn’t until Armie’s face dropped that Timmy felt the dried edge of the shirt against his fingers, stale, crusty. He turned the material over and when he realized it was Armie’s shirt — the one he’d wore the night of the brewery, the night he’d slept in his bed —realization dawn on him. 

He tossed the shirt at Armie who chuckled, shaking his head and Timmy didn’t need any more than the moonlight from his window to know that Armie was blushing. 

“ _Armie Hammer,_ ” Timmy beamed as if he could take full credit over the fact that Armie had jerked off in his room. He had no idea he could have such an effect over Armie. 

Suddenly, after all this time, Timmy started to realize that maybe Armie wasn’t such an enigma after all.


	8. the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, hello. i know, it's been absolutely forever. trying to find the right way to wrap this story up gave me a lot more trouble than i anticipated, but after working through a few different variations, i present to you -- the final chapter.
> 
> i want to thank absolutely everyone that has taken the time to tag me, message me, comment, follow-up, poke me, prod me, "pester" me about this story... i loved every second of it. and i'll miss writing this story, i'll miss being with these soft boys. it's not out of the realm of possibility that i'll revisit them in one shots or something, but, well, we'll see.
> 
>  
> 
> enjoy, i love you. kbye.  
> -cpx

Timmy wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep.

“Armie?” He whispered against his pillow, expecting silence in response. He could feel the weight of an arm wrapped around his middle, but pessimistic reasoning in the back of his foggy, sleepy mind told him that there’s no way last night could have been real. He didn’t want to open his eyes, so instead he curved his body and pushed back, gasped when his bare skin was met with warmth, no, _heat._ The temperature under the blanket should have been uncomfortable but if it really was Armie behind him…

“Timmy,” Armie breathed against his neck. Timmy squeezed his eyes shut, lifting his hand to his face to hide away while he silently freaked out, hoping to keep his excited-panic a secret but his body vibrated, the traitor, and he felt Armie shift behind him, a rumbling of laughter falling from his sleep-thickened voice. “You okay there?”

Timmy burrowed deeper into his pillow, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hide his excitement, and now, embarrassment. “ _Fuck_ , no,” he mumbled a laugh into the pillow. Armie gripped his shoulder and rolled him over with ease, Timmy’s body going pliant as he allowed himself to be rotated. Their eyes met when Armie pried his fingers away and they both grinned, red cheeked and hazy. “Yes,” Timmy corrected. “Very okay.”

Timmy dragged his hand up the side of Armie’s bare waist, across his ribcage, then over his arm, shoulder, until his fingers curled around the shaggy blonde hair at the nape of his neck. Armie hummed content, his head craning to urge Timmy's touch onward.

They had spent the rest of the night kissing, soft, lazy, languid presses of their mouths. Timmy had peeled Armie out of most of his clothes in the process but they’d both fallen asleep before being able to remove their underwear.

“Last night was real,” Timmy stated aloud, amazed, his mouth split in awe. He needed to verbalize _last night_ , otherwise how else could it be real?

Armie looked on, eyelids hooded and expression unreadable in the dimly lit glow of Timmy’s bedroom. Timmy could make out a subtle nod of Armie’s chin, confirmation, and he felt miniscule movement against the fabric of his pillowcase - the one they shared.

_Holy shit, he was sharing a pillow with Armie, in his bed, basically naked._

The room was silent except for their breathing and the soft twitter of birds that were starting to wake up outside his window. It was early, too early, but Timmy couldn’t find it in him to check the time. Not yet. Not when Armie had started to drag his fingertips up and down his arm, a slow, purposeful caress. It gave Timmy goosebumps and made his stomach ache with want.

A thousand questions plagued his mind. So many that Timmy felt his mouth grow dry over the concept of asking any of them; _What would this mean for them? Did Armie want to be with him? How did they proceed after this? How does one, exactly, date their roommate?_ The fact they lived together already felt like jumping a few vital steps in any normal relationship… but then again, nothing about their falling together had been exactly normal.

The most important question though, or at least the one Timmy couldn’t get out of his head currently, the one that ached between his legs and pulled on his belly button, was the question of when he’d be able to have Armie’s hands on him again.

Fuck, last night was _real._

“What are you thinking about?” Armie asked softly. Timmy’s eyes fluttered, a blush crept against his cheekbones. Instead of answering, he pushed his hips forward, pressing his hard cock against the warmth of Armie’s fuzzy belly. “Oh,” came Armie’s understanding sigh a moment later.

The friction of Armie’s tummy against his dick instantly sent Timmy into overdrive, his brain rapidly gone numb with now only one ambition in mind: _Armie._

Timmy practically threw himself on top of him, his mouth open and desperate to taste the salty warmth of Armie’s neck. He bit down a moan as he explored, his entire body bending and grinding against the wide expanse of Armie underneath him. “Please,” Timmy sighed, once again asking for something - anything - and having no idea what it was he wanted; He’d take it all, give it all.

“Tim—” Armie groaned, his voice converted from a sleepy rasp into a low, sultry growl. Timmy felt Armie pushing back against him and he whimpered, in pure bliss for half a second until he realized that Armie was trying to push him _away_. It was as if cold water had been poured all over his body.

“Did I do something wrong?” Timmy’s eyes watered instantly, his face pulled apart in despair. Armie’s eyes went wide while Timmy spiraled against him. “Did I? Fuck -- I misread everything. You don’t want -- _shit_. I’m sorry,” Timmy whined, his voice shaken and sad. He scrambled off of Armie and stood up, throwing his fists over his crotch, embarrassed by his still very obvious arousal. Timmy was so concerned with trying not to openly sob that he didn’t notice Armie sit up, peel back the covers and climb out of bed.

“I want you, Timmy,” Armie swooped in front of him, putting his arms out to halt him. Timmy looked down at the floor, his toes sinking into the swirl of sheet that had fallen off the bed. “Stop, stop.” He placed his hands on either side of Timmy’s face, lifting so that their eyes met with purpose. Timmy blinked away the burn of salt because he knew what a messy crier he could be, how his cheeks would blotch and the rings of his eyes would turn red. This morning couldn’t get anymore embarrassing. “I’m not good at this,” Armie explained, his thumb pressed into the edge of Timmy’s left cheek.

“What do you mean?” Timmy asked with glossy eyes, his heartbeat nearing painful. He took a sharp but slow breath to keep himself from asking all of the questions in his mind at once. “I just thought -- because of last night, I mean. I _assumed_ , you know, that you and I,” Timmy held out his palm and hovered it over Armie’s bare chest, but he dropped it before there was contact. “Are we… together?”

God, he felt like a fucking child, and he knew he looked like one too; big uncertain eyes, stupid worried slant over his lips, nose wet with snot that was already starting to leak under his nostrils. He swiped the back of his hand across his nose just in case. He shouldn’t have asked that question, but it was the one he needed answered, and maybe it was the wrong thing to ask — immature, impatient, but Timmy knew he was naive about relationships and sex and love, but he’d rather look like an idiot than continue to wonder about everything between him and Armie.

“Together?” Armie didn’t sound offended when he repeated the word but he didn’t sound sure either. He shook his head and Timmy felt like the earth was falling apart beneath him. “I don’t know -- _hey_ ,” Armie reached out, his hands having lowered to Timmy’s arms and Armie suddenly gripped tightly when Timmy tried to walk away. He wanted to put space between them but Armie wasn’t going to allow it. “Listen to me, Timmy, please. Can you just,” Armie closed his eyes and tightened his hold even more. Timmy yelped when he was suddenly hoisted from the ground and tossed back into bed. Armie straddled him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Armie started, and Timmy was already pushing up, mouth open, with a hand gripped around the back of Armie’s neck. Armie chuckled but his voice was serious. “No, listen to me. We’re going to kiss, okay?”

“Okay.” Timmy tried to sit up again and Armie held him down by his shoulder, making him squirm under his grasp. “Armie,” he whined.

“No, I said _listen._ We’re going to kiss, really fucking kiss -- for a while. But that’s it, okay? There’s… there are things we need to talk about before we... and, _shit_ Timmy, it’s been difficult enough having to live with you while watching you date Nick, while being in -- while feeling this way. I’m crazy about you.” Timmy laid back fully now, his eyes completely focused on Armie’s above him. He thought about Armie’s fist wrapped around his cock hours earlier.

“But last night….” Timmy’s hormones were skewing his logic, but somewhere in the depths of his lizard brain he knew that Armie was right - there had been so much miscommunication between them over the past few months that neither of them could handle any more fuck ups.

“I know,” Armie agreed, not apologetic but insistent. “Let me try to get this right, please?” His blue eyes were so bright that Timmy couldn’t do anything except tip his head and nod.

“Can I touch you while we kiss?” Timmy asked with a soft smile after a moment. Armie agreed instantly, a feather light laugh falling between them. Timmy raised his eyebrow and licked over his bottom lip nervously. “Your face?” Armie nodded again while Timmy lifted his hands to do exactly that. “Your arms?” His hands dropped, body shifted. “Your back?”

“Yes.” They both sighed as Timmy dragged the tips of his fingernails down Armie’s spine.

He swallowed nerves before finally asking, “Your butt?”

“Timmy…” Armie sighed, amused, but his hips fell in against him as Timmy pushed his fingers below the waistband of Armie’s briefs.

“Kiss me,” Timmy ordered.

“Okay.”

-

Timmy’s fingers released Armie’s sleeping shoulder and he glanced over his own at his alarm clock. He had class in an hour but he had already declared skipping it essential now that he had Armie in his bed. Timmy sighed, feeling partially guilty until Armie stirred next to him.

He was buried into Armie’s soft chest when they woke up a second, or maybe it was third, time. Timmy had lost count. He smiled against fuzzy chest hair and wiggled in closer, trying to settle himself as close as physically possible.

“You’re late for class,” Armie mumbled against the top of his curls. Timmy still wasn’t used to hearing Armie’s morning voice; deep, low, smooth. It was like the creamiest cup of hot chocolate. It also made him incredibly hard. “You made me promise last week when you wanted to binge Love Island that I couldn’t let you miss class again.”

Timmy pressed his body in, sliding a bare leg between Armie’s under the covers. He shifted his hips experimentally and smiled when he felt Armie swallow from above. “Timmy…”

He cut Armie off by kissing him. Timmy always went in for a kiss with an open mouth and Armie seemed to have already adjusted to his heady and sloppy technique. Timmy wanted to ask if he liked the way he kissed, or if maybe he thought he was too slobbery, maybe too aggressive. He pulled away in a sudden worried-panic before they could get too carried away, before he could reevaluate everything he knew about kissing.

Timmy realized that maybe he needed to know what was going on between them, completely, before he came embarrassingly quick in his underwear like he had earlier during their “kissing only” session.

“We should talk,” Timmy sighed, rolling over to his back. He shifted his hips a few times to settle himself. He smiled when he glanced over at Armie. “But maybe not in my bed, basically naked, because I’m hardly a functional person as it is, let alone with all this —” he gestured over Armie’s entirety, “— next to me.”

Armie barked a laugh and then leaned over to press a kiss against Timmy’s sternum. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Their eyes met as Armie sat back up and before Timmy could melt on the spot, Armie gave his stomach a playful slap. “Come on. I’ll make some coffee.”

-

Timmy walked into the living room with his skin flushed, hair damp. He had got up to follow Armie out of his room earlier but when he remembered that he hadn’t cleaned himself up after his kissing mishap he excused himself with a flush and hurried off to the bathroom to shower.

He turned the shower on as hot as his skin could handle and when he was finished he was sure he looked as red as the cherries on his sweater he’d dug out from a pile of clothes on his floor. Armie had told him once that it was his favorite one of all the sweaters he owned. Timmy wasn’t sure he’d ever take it off again.

Reluctantly, he also slipped on a pair of sweats. He’d contemplated remaining in only his boxers but now that Armie had made him come twice, he doubted his ability to keep his mind on track. Luckily, when he walked into the room, Armie had dressed too. A pair of jeans and a white shirt. Timmy was dependent on clothing because without it, even looking at Armie, who was rummaging around their kitchen, separated by their island countertop, all he wanted to do was strip bare and offer himself over, spread himself out against the granite and tell Armie to have him, all of him, whatever he wanted.

Timmy felt more impatient than ever before in his life. He agreed that they needed to talk but ugh, couldn’t they talk and kiss at the same time? It was unfair he’d waited so long to even see Armie, to get to know him, to finally confess his feelings, and still he had longer to wait.

Just then the kettle went off and Armie looked up as he poured the steaming liquid into the glass french press already filled with ground coffee. Timmy absorbed the image and suddenly, unable to grasp the entirety of the situation, he giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Armie asked as he readied their mugs. Timmy felt embarrassed instantly, afraid to reveal what he’d found amusing while watching Armie fuss around the kitchen.

“Nothing.”

Armie gave him a look, his eyebrows stretching upward and Timmy felt his shoulders slump forward in defeat. He chewed his lip nervously, realizing that after months of keeping his thoughts about Armie to himself, he simply didn’t have the capacity to do it any longer. Nor did he want to — not with those blue eyes looking into his as though nothing else in the world mattered.

“It’s just…” Timmy moved forward, taking a seat in one of the stools at the island. He swiveled back and forth nervously, clutching then letting go of his mug to instead pick at the oversized sleeves of his sweater. He pinched a loose thread, trying to organize his confession in the least offensive way possible. “Um, well. It’s just...unusual, I guess. To see you in the kitchen. Making coffee, after…” He inhaled, then exhaled, “Usually, I’m the one making the coffee.”

Armie gave him a funny look. He didn’t get it. Timmy covered his face then grumbled before dropping his hands to his thighs and letting out a determined breath. “In the past. Whenever you had people over,” Timmy blushed over his words, “your one night stands — I’d be in the kitchen making them coffee the next morning. But now, I’m here, and you’re making _me_ coffee. You haven’t done that for anyone else.” That he knew of, anyway.

Timmy had to look away from Armie then because his face was unreadable and he knew if he kept watching he’d just run through a hundred unfavorable assumptions.

He picked up his mug for something to do, but frowned when he remembered it was empty. He scrambled to pour coffee from the press into his mug, some liquid slopping over, and then hissed when he impatiently took a sip, burning his lips on the still too hot liquid. He scrunched his face when the bitter taste of black coffee coated his tongue.

Armie kept quiet and moved around the kitchen until he had added creamer to both of their mugs. He also added a scoop of sugar into Timmy’s and he was instantly flattered that Armie remembered..x.

“Timmy,” Armie finally spoke and Timmy looked up, nervous and shaky. “Do you think that you’re just a one night stand?” Armie seemed sad and Timmy felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

“No, no, no,” he shook his head frantically, but then realized that maybe that was a stupid assumption to make in and of itself. Maybe he _was_ a one night stand. Armie had said he was crazy about him but he had no idea what Armie really felt for him, other than physical attraction. “Well, like, it’s totally fine. Either way. If you want to be casual or, um. I know what I asked earlier about us being together was dumb but I was so caught up in the moment and —“ Fuck, he was rambling and Armie was there, staring at him, eating him alive with his eyes, making him sweat and hyperventilate and how the _fuck_ had he managed to live with him all this time?

“I can hear you overthinking,” Armie smiled from over the brim of his mug. Timmy watched him lick his lips, jealous of the brown liquid that got to rest on the rivets of Armie’s bottom lip. “I like you, Timmy.”

Breath fluttered from his chest and made ripples in the coffee he was holding near his mouth. Timmy smiled, probably like an idiot but he didn’t care. “I like you, too.”

Armie set his mug down and walked around the island until he was standing next to Timmy. He set his own mug down and Armie gripped the back of the stool to swivel Timmy until they were facing one another, Timmy’s knees on either side of Armie’s thighs.

“I don’t want to pressure you. We can take this as slow, or fast, as you want but,” Armie pushed back some of the curls sticking to Timmy’s cheek and suddenly his face made an awkward change, like he was distracted by a new thought. “Why are you always _wet_?” Armie sounded so amused and Timmy was about to question what he meant but then he thought back on all the rain this year, how he’d always end up caught in it on his bike and waltz into the apartment dripping. He remembered the first time Armie had joined him for a block at the radio station, and all their run ins at the shower. He had still been damp when Armie had crawled into his bed last night, and now…

“Sorry?” Timmy offered. They both laughed, leaning forward until their foreheads bumped together. “I can just stop taking showers if that helps.”

Armie pinched the top of his thigh. “My shampoo would last a lot longer if you did,” he smirked. Timmy went pale and immediately buried his face into his hands, then tried to tug his sweater over his head to hide away his embarrassment but Armie wrestled him free. “Don’t hide from me. I went long enough not being able to look at you.”

Their eyes met then and Timmy finally knew— he understood that what they felt for one another was the same. Timmy could see the relief in Armie’s eyes and he knew it was reflected in his own; nothing was unknown between anymore.

-

The concept of time becomes irrelevant when you spend the entire day locked away with your favorite person.

That was a new development that Timmy had come across, though he’d suspected it for a while now: Armie was his favorite _everything._

The morning light gave way to the high afternoon sun. He and Armie had taken it upon themselves to try to be the laziest they could be. Armie had called out of work when Timmy did the same thing, both laughing and sharing respective texts from Saoirse and Nick who both made dick jokes when they said they weren’t going to make it in today.

Timmy tossed his phone over to his desk while they laughed, his feet hoisted up against his wall as he pushed out onto his back. He pinched a joint between his fingers and took a hit before stretching backwards over his head to pass it to Armie.

They had ended up back in his room after Armie had asked about The Flaming Lips on vinyl and Timmy excitedly bolted, an immediate need to show Armie his entire collection, which in turn led to them getting stoned and spinning their way through the discography.

They were a few songs in, both lost in a haze of smoke and simply enjoying each other when Timmy realized he needed to clear the air. “Hey, Armie?” Timmy’s voice was thick, heavy with the apology that he suddenly felt was top priority. Armie was star-fished out next to him and both of their heads lolled towards each other in slow motion when Timmy spoke again. “I’m sorry about everything with Nick.”

Armie watched him in slow-motion quiet for a few moments, which was agonizing because Timmy was high and every minute felt severe. Timmy’s hooded eyes blinked rapidly when he watched Armie’s adam’s apple bob with a swallow, mesmerized by the scruff of hair that crept over the lump. Timmy wanted to touch it, to kiss it until his lips were raw.

“I did like him,” Timmy admitted, suddenly looking away and up at the ceiling. He busied his hands with the hem of his cherry sweater, bunching up the fabric and then smoothing it out over his stomach. Do You Realize? played in the background. “I’m scared he thinks I used him to get to you but I promise that wasn’t it. I just ...realized something. It would’ve happened the same with anyone else.”

“Mm,” Armie hummed, sitting up to ash the rest of the joint. Timmy sighed when their knees knocked together, smiling when Armie laid back down on his side, now only inches away from Timmy’s face. Timmy felt his need for oxygen increase. “What did you realize?” Armie asked.

Timmy rolled to his side to match, situating himself against Armie. He kissed his nose, his chin, then the scruff blanket of stubble of his adam’s apple. “That when I lose my virginity, I don’t want it to be to someone that I like just _\--_ _enough_ to not regret it.” Because Timmy knew that’s exactly what would have happened. If he had kept dating Nick, he would’ve been okay, he would’ve been decently happy. He would’ve thought, hey, this is safe _enough_. This is comfortable _enough_. Timmy didn’t want to say directly that being with Nick would have been settling, at least not to Armie because no matter what, Nick was still his best friend, but the simple fact of the matter was, “I want my first time to be with you. All my first times. Even the bad ones.”

Timmy had never been in a serious relationship; he’d never got to experience all the stereotypical routines and fights, the happiness and woes, of being with someone. He also had no idea where to begin but he knew, without a shred of doubt, he wanted all of these things with Armie.

“What if I mess up?” Armie asked calmly, but his eyes looked a deeper shade of blue.

Timmy smiled, as if the possibility of it was thrilling. “Then you’ll be my first heartbreak.” Timmy pushed Armie down and threw his leg over his waist until he was straddling him. “I mean it, Armie. All of my firsts, everything. As long as it’s you.”

-

They had ended up back in his bed once the record player scratched the end of the last song on the album. Timmy didn’t bother to put another on. He had spent so long trying to wash out the sounds of Armie’s fooling and fucking around with other people, but it was his turn now. He wasn’t going to miss a single, beautiful, glorious sound.

“I thought about you here, in bed, just like this, all the time,” Armie confessed with a mouthful of Timmy’s neck. His big hands were skirting the hem of his sweater, fingers teasing his midriff and making him gasp with each flourish of pressure over his belly button.

“Yeah?” Timmy’s asked through shattered breathing. “What would you think about specifically?” He turned his head so he could look Armie directly in the eyes. He looked lustful but soft, his dirty blonde hair already sticking up all over the place. Timmy couldn’t help but push his fingers through it. Because he could do that now. “Or, can you show me?”

-

“Please, _fuck_ , I want you.” Timmy was desperate, unable to do more than babble, his mind unable to comprehend anything other than _want_ as Armie dragged the thick, flattened top of his tongue across his perineum.

Timmy was certain his life had peaked when, after he’d asked Armie to show him what he wanted, Armie had slowly peeled him out of his clothes, removing his own in the process. He’d put his mouth on almost every part of Timmy’s body, sucking his cock until Timmy was certain he was going to cry from how good it felt.

Timmy was positive that nothing on earth could feel any better than Armie Hammer’s hot, plush mouth sliding over his achingly hard cock.

That was, until Armie had flipped him over, spread him open and started to eat him out.

“You can do anything you want to me.” Timmy’s thighs shook so uncontrollably it was embarrassing, and when Armie circled the tip of his tongue directly against his hole, Timmy let out an inhuman sound, squealing into his pillow. “Fuck me, please.”

And Timmy would have let him, right then and there.

Armie could have shoved his cock into him and even if it hurt, even if it made him cry or bleed or bruised him in ways he’d feel for weeks, all Timmy wanted was Armie but thank fucking god Armie had more self control because Timmy was gone, and they both knew it.

Timmy was fully fucking himself on Armie’s face now — letting his tongue puncture his insides as Armie’s hands gripped tightly around his thighs, relinquishing control so Timmy could ride his face as wildly as he wanted. Armie felt like heaven, so much so that his eyes watered, tears forming in the corners of his lids from the pleasure of it all. It was almost too much and he continued to beg Armie for more until finally he pulled back with a _smack_ of his lips and Timmy whined at the loss, instantly rolling over to see what made him stop.

Armie was gasping for air, his mouth chaffed, his lips red and swollen from the friction of eating Timmy out. Timmy was sure he’d never seen anyone so fucking beautiful in his life.

“Do you,” Armie huffed, trying to catch his breath. “Do you mean it?” He asked, licking over his lips, top to bottom. Timmy’s cock twitched at the fact that he was watching Armie taste the leftovers of himself on his mouth.

“Yes, I mean it,” Timmy answered but he wasn’t sure specifically what Armie meant. He was so hard and horny that he was ready to consent to anything that meant they could be together. Armie chuckled, probably sensing his anguish. He soothed a hand over his stomach, pulling up to lay himself over Timmy completely. Timmy moaned at the weight of Armie on top of him. “I want to do everything with you.”

Armie sighed warmly, digging his mouth beneath the messy curls curtained around Timmy’s neck. He kissed the expanse of skin from under his ear to his chin, until they found each other’s lips. Timmy could taste the musky sweetness of himself all over Armie’s face, mingled with the scruffy beard that blanketed his features. “I want you inside of me, Timmy,” Armie whispered and suddenly the entire world vibrated with intensity.

That was something he hadn’t considered. He’d been so caught up in the thought of having Armie inside of him that it’d never occurred to him that he might want the same thing.

“But — what if I’m not good at it.” He’d never put his dick inside anyone, surely Armie, who’d had so much more experience, would want someone who knew what they were doing to do _that?_ “Wouldn’t you rather, to me?”

Armie shook his head gently. “Right now, that’s not what I want.”

“And what you want,” Timmy clarified with a suddenly dry mouth, “is me.. to fuck you?”

“If you want to,” Armie said carefully, his eyes softening and Timmy relaxed under his stare. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to be inside of you at some point and we’ll get there but,” Armie coaxed Timmy’s mouth into ease, “right now all I want is to feel your cock.”

-

Timmy ran both of his hands over the mounds of Armie’s ass. He flexed the tendons in his arms and hands, which were already sore from how thoroughly he had worked Armie open. It was strenuous work, prepping for anal sex, but Timmy relished in the way his wrist and forearm muscles ached.

“You’re so perfect,” Timmy whispered, thinking he had said it to himself but Armie made a sound and Timmy blushed. “You really want this?” he asked, meaning _you really want me?_

“I want you.”

Timmy pulled one hand off of Armie’s cheek to grip around his condom-covered cock. There was a smear of lube over part of Armie’s ass, which made it shine from where his hand had been moments ago. The sight made Timmy smirk; he had put that there.

He squeezed the base of his throbbing dick in an attempt to keep composure but they both knew that this wasn’t going to last very long. Timmy didn’t have it in himself to be embarrassed by that fact; he was about to lose his virginity to Armie, all his insecurities and worries were white noise now.

“Just take your time, go slow.” Armie’s voice was soothing. Timmy didn’t realize he was shaking until he aligned the tip of his cock against Armie’s hole, using his other hand to spread him open. He felt numb with adrenaline and excitement. “ _Timmy._ ”

His name was the last thing that he comprehended before he entered Armie.

-

Everything happened so quickly that by the time they were both sprawled out on their backs trying to catch their breath, Timmy forced himself to close his eyes and take a few minutes to piece everything together.

_At first Armie had been face down into his pillow, knee hoisted under him, his ass lifted upward for Timmy to fuck into him. And god, he had fucked him so slowly. Everything was hot and tight, so fucking tight. Armie was solid underneath him and so fucking big. Every push of Timmy’s hips had been met with the doughy but firm cheeks that made Timmy feel like he was going to simultaneously implode and explode, to melt away and hopefully become one with Armie’s entirety._

_Armie had encouraged him with every soft pump of his cock into his body. ‘Just like that. Fuck, thats right. Just like that. Timmy, Timmy. Oh, Timmy.’_

_Then, just as he felt his orgasm creep into his balls, Armie had stopped him. Made him pull out so he could flip over. Timmy was perched on his knees in awe, his mouth hanging open as he clenched his cock in his fist to keep control. Armie had laid out on his back, spread his tree trunk legs wide open and told Timmy to anchor himself underneath his knees. So he did. And then they fucked like that, Armie’s heavy fucking legs draped over his shoulders that were undoubtedly going to fucking ache tomorrow, and finally Timmy came. He came with a shout, a hiss, a dribble of spit pooling over his bottom lip as he moaned and writhed against Armie._

His eyes popped open when in the daze of recollection he realized something. “Oh my god, Armie!”

Timmy sat up so fast that Armie jumped. “What’s wrong?”

Timmy scrambled, awkwardly because his come-filled condom was still squeezed around his softening cock. His eyes were as wide as possible, panic waved over his eyebrows. “You didn’t come.” He felt like the worst type of person. He had been so caught up in his own bliss that he hadn’t even thought to make sure that Armie was getting what he needed from the moment. Timmy felt on the verge of tears. How many times could he almost-cry in one day?

Before Armie could even react, Timmy was on him, kissing his neck, his face, licking over his collar bone. He arched his hips so he could peel the condom off, throwing it haphazardly to the ground without regard to what it might come in contact with.

“Hey, slow down,” Armie chuckled, through Timmy could hear the hitch in his breath when he dragged his mouth over his nipple. That was something he must like, so Timmy made note of it. He wanted to learn everything that turned Armie on. “It’s okay.”

Timmy poured as he looked up at Armie, leaning into the hand that was petting the undoubtedly fucked curls on top of his head. “No, it’s not. I want you to come. I need you to come.” Timmy was already hard again, just being able to kiss Armie freely, to splay his naked body across Armie’s.

This is what people wrote novels about. This is what it meant when people sang about love and sex and heartbreak. It didn’t matter what order Armie offered those things to him, Timmy would gladly accept them all.

Armie wrestled him down until they were naked on his floor, mixed among the mess of school work, record sleeves, dirty shoes, and piles of laundry he should probably get to. Armie quieted his insistence with a slow, simple kiss.

“We have all the time in the world.”


End file.
